LXG2: Above & Beyond
by Clez
Summary: Fresh on the heels of their earlier triumph, Victorian Britain's unlikely collaborators must face an even more perilous threat that descends upon London through the black void... Now Complete
1. Prologue

**Author's Note:** Well, it didn't take me as long as I'd expected it would, and I hope that's enough to keep you happy. At least for the time being. Lol. This story should be about 20-ish chapters long, if that. Just so you know, in case you missed the rating, it will be R. This is because – and if you've read the story you full well _know_ this already, it will be violent, graphic and probably contain some rather… foul… language. I'm glad you all enjoyed the teaser. Thanks to those who reviewed it:

Graymoon74 – Write for the movies? Wow… quite a compliment, but I'm going to be my modest self and say it's over zealous… I appreciate it nevertheless. Raven Silvers – *puts cotton buds in ears* 

**Leigh S. Durron – **Hehehehe, thanks, Leigh. Appreciate it, pal. Hehehehe, didn't have to bug for long *wink*

**Sethoz – **Oh god, the stocking thing cracked me up! Don't we all? I'm so happy you enjoyed the trailer. If I had had this all planned out sooner in advance, I might have made a longer one, but alas… didn't happen, and I hope that's okay. I **had** to put that horseback thing in, since I told you about it after watching the _Mummy_, and now I have… and it will definitely feature, so don't worry. I look forward to seeing quoteage… quotes from **any** of his films are acceptable *grins*

**Hoshii-chan – **I will, and I have *wink*

**LotRseer3350 – **Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. That was very comforting *smile* 

**TARilus – **Oh, you'll have to wait and see on that note. It would be a HUGE spoiler if I gave away such things *evil laugh* *blink*

**_DISCLAIMER:_**None of the ideas or characters in this story belongs to me, unless said otherwise. I just borrowed them without asking, and am having fun with them for my own entertainment, and everyone else's. No need to sue, cuz I don't have anything anyway. Everything in this fic belongs to their respective creators, and I am jealous of the lot of you… ahem. _This will be the only DISCLAIMER._ Can't be bothered to put that in all of them, lol.

Anyway, enough with the acknowledgements etc, and on with the story. Yes, I know this is the prologue, but it's long and blah, blah, **blah**. I've got the majority of this planned, and… all this was in one chapter slot, so… ahem… on with the show!

*         *         *

           The three men laughed and talked amongst themselves in the nighttime of London's outskirts, conversing over the flickering, wan fire they had built, drinking from a shared bottle of whisky they had pitched in to buy, and pointing at random points in the sky before elaborating on what it was that they saw. Stars twinkled lazily overhead, blinking and yawning with the drawing in of the dawn. It was closing on three in the morning, and the men showed no signs of lethargy or tiring. They would sit there all night if it suited them… and it most certainly did. This was not the first time they had shared time along on the hill with one another… they did it almost every day, simply to battle the boredom that the rhythm of London life brought with it.

           "Well, personally, I don't see it," one of them, Jeff, said, his thinning hair covered by a weathered cap, and took the whisky bottle from his shorter companion before swigging at it. "How can you _that_ constellation looks _anything_ like my mother?"

           The youngest of the three, Malcolm, sniggered with slight intoxication and shrugged lazily. "I just think it does, that's all. No need to get all huffy about it." He toyed with the cuff of one of his tatty shirt sleeves and rubbed his hands through his hair, making it stick up in all directions as though it had a life of its own. "Come to think of it… it rather looks like it's growing larger… quite a bit like your old mum actually." He burst into laughter, dodging the swipe that came from the oldest of the three.

           "Shut your mouth," he griped, and narrowed his grey eyes warningly, before the middle man, Edward, gazed skyward.

           "'Ere, I think he's right," he said quietly, pensively. 

           "You can watch it an' all!"

           "No, look! The star he was talkin' about… it's getting bigger," Edward pointed out. He rose a finger to point as he spoke, "It looks almost like it's comin' toward us. Don't it?"

           Malcolm nodded enthusiastically, and furrowed his brow in consideration of the fact. "He's right, Jeff. That ain't no normal star, mate. It _is_ getting bigger. You can't tell me it's not. Just _look_ at the bloody thing!"

           "All right, all _right_, I'll look at the sodding thing, quit buggin' me," Jeff grumbled, and tilted his head. "Bloody 'ell, lads, you're not wrong." 

           The three men all stared skyward as the star right in the centre of their field of vision began to almost swell and bulge, truly appearing to grow larger, but in reality… it was growing _closer_. The size was not changing, but the distance between it's celestial point of beginning and Earth was closing, and it soared inward to break the atmosphere. Even as Jeff, Edward and Malcolm watched, in a peculiar mix of horror and fascination, it began to glow, a fiery ring surrounding it now as it approached, entering the very edges of Earth's outer layers, coursing through them with enough speed to tear through any barriers in its way. It was gathering _more_ speed as it came, ever closer, growing larger and larger and seeming to bulge at the edges, and pretty soon, a dull whine, rising in pitch, could be heard accompanying the approach.

           "Erm… anyone else think we should probably move?" Edward stammered, swallowing the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat constrictively. The other two men nodded, even as the object careened in their direction.

           Before long, it was swallowing up the sky, blocking out most of the stars they had previously been admiring and scrutinising. The three men were beginning to panic inwardly, but all three were too proud to show it to either of their companions, and though their eyes were wide, their held their ground, even as the gigantic object soared right _over_ their heads to slam into the ground _behind_ them. A choking cloud of dust and debris was sent up and around it, coating everything surrounding it, and blocking off all natural vision for a few minutes, as the men coughed and wheezed, shaking and terrified.

           "Bloody _hell_!" Jeff croaked, eyes wider than they had ever been, his breath quick and trembling, vision clearing as the dirt settled back to the ground where it had risen. "That can't be a star!"

           "It might be," whimpered Malcolm in a frightened manner, small and cowering, behind the other two men as if for protection. His beady eyes gazed over their shoulders as the last of the dust fell, and they could see the odd object in its entirety. It was huge, almost coppery in appearance, though the heat still seeped through the shell of whatever it was and made it glow eerily with an otherworldly light of mystery. It resembled an enlarged bullet of sorts, explaining why it had cut through the atmosphere so neatly and cleanly. If they hadn't have known better, the three could have collectively sworn that there was seam in the middle, running around like a crack or the lid of a jar almost.

           "That ain't a star, Malcolm… don't be so bloody naïve for a change," Edward mumbled, in disbelief as to what they had just witnessed. As a unit, the three men advanced, approaching the gargantuan crater the _thing_ had created upon landing. It had simply slammed into the ground, making a kind of nest for itself, with all the dirt around it for several meters having been kicked aside, so there was a drop around the sides.

           Malcolm whimpered quietly, clearly terrified beyond reason or individual action, for he remained solidly behind Jeff and Edward. 

           As they reached the edge of the perimeter, the shell – for that was what it appeared to be – hissed like a wary cat, and smoke or steam seeped from the seam. A whine and a groan was heard, and the three men leapt backward as one, pausing in terror six feet from the edge when something started to _move_. Something rose from within the confines of the unusual shell that had fallen from the very heavens, and a lazy noise – one that served only to unnerve the three men further no less – made its way into their sense of hearing. It sounded not too unlike a sigh, accompanied by the creak of technology and… metal?

           The men gasped when it appeared there was an eye blinking at them…a green, wide, slanted eye that glowed. Then it rose from the crater on a stalk, like a neck and almost weaved like the head of a cobra prepared to strike. The eyes hummed ominously, and Malcolm made to move backwards, only succeeding in falling to his rear with an 'oof'. Edward and Jeff were too transfixed to move, and simply stared up with saucer-shaped eyes at the odd device that loomed watchfully over them. 

           The whine started to increase in fever and pitch, reaching a frightening crescendo that swirled and pained their ears, until there was a blinding light… and nothing more.

*         *         *

           Mycroft Holmes was a rather… rotund man at best, and the judgement upon first setting eyes on him had been that – in answer to the mystery over _Sherlock_ Holmes, his missing brother – he had eaten his absent sibling. Of course, they had pretended to ignore that comment, though it was more than a little certain that all of them had laughed _internally_ at least, at that. He stood at the head of the table now, forever dressed in a neatly pressed pinstripe suit of dark tones, such as grey or black, with a white shirt, a black, clipped tie, a striped – and often clashing – waistcoat, with a chain dangling around his rather large waist, no doubt holding a pocket watch on the concealed end.

           He had a rounded face, with thinning but neatly combed and flat greying hair, browner towards the ends, tidied away from his face. His eyes were wise, but concealed somewhat in the shadow that forever seemed cast over his pensive features, a broad brow and a constant frown of consideration. 

           Campion Bond was the equally overweight man at his side, wearing similar attire, though resting himself on a polished cane before him. His left hand was completely adorned – save for the thumb – in golden rings of varying styles and importance, no doubt, ranging from sentimental to downright pointless. He had golden cufflinks, seemingly just to look important, his collar was starched, though it seemed exaggerated, as though he were trying to outdo his superior, just for the sake of it. His black hair was slicked 'stylishly' to one side, and he forever wore a long, navy blue jacket, though it was never understood _why_. He had once had a moustache, but had endeavoured recently to shave it off, perhaps to hide his age, make his face younger, though the lines were still visible, perhaps now even more so. He had brown, deep eyes that seemed to hide many secrets, and even as he stood there, he dabbed his brow with a handkerchief, stitched with the initials 'CB' in one corner.

           Around the table they stood to the head of, were a collection of rather mismatched individuals. The first was a very neat woman, with her auburn-tinted brown hair pinned back from her face in a very prim bun atop her head to the rear, a few strands falling loose every few moments, only to receive a tuck behind the ear. Her cool blue eyes stared only around the walls, to the various portraits and oddities that adorned the walls of the Albion Museum's lower level. She was tall, though it could not be proven whilst she was seated, and was dressed in the formal, proper attire for a nineteenth century lady. White blouse, red scarf about her neck, over her black, buttoned jacket, the corset concealed beneath the clothing devoid of creases or marring. Her lean face was beautiful but had a hidden darkness to it, as though some terrible secret was concealed just beneath the surface. Mrs. Wilhelmina 'Mina' Harker cleared her throat quietly, and released a delicate sigh.

           The second figure sighed heavily, and removed a golden pocket watch, flicking it open and shut a few times before actually allowing his chocolate-coloured eyes to settle on the ticking hands within. He set it back in its pouch within his grey waistcoat, and neatened the lapels of his black dinner jacket over the top, checking the tidiness of his collar. His chestnut hair was combed over his right eye simply, simply to keep it from obstructing his gaze, which seemed to blaze with the wariness of _two_ people. There was a readiness to his lean limbs that seemed to scream enthusiasm for action, yet the apprehension in the face said otherwise. Humming lightly to himself now, Doctor Henry Jekyll – vessel for Mr. Edward Hyde, scourge of London _and _Paris for many a year – lowered his eyes from the clock on the wall. 

           The third figure did not sit slouched like in the others, not even in the slightest fashion with the first two. His back was straight, as though set with a pole, and his dark eyes were shaded in mystery. His black beard and moustache were finely trimmed and combed to the finest detail, curled up slightly above his top lip, as if framing his face lightly. His hair was covered by an immaculate cyan turban, decorated with a silver Nautili shell, a feather pressing out of the top, catching the light ever so slightly and reflecting it for a moment. The silver trimming continued down along his regal uniform, complete with sashes and fine belt, all polished and scrubbed to rid it of any marks whatsoever. There was not a speck of dirt or dust on the man, especially not on his fine scabbard at his left hip, the ornamental hilt of the beautiful sword a resting place for one tanned weathered hand. The lined face – delicately showing his years – turned to regard the others for a moment, before Captain Nemo simply took to staring at the far wall over the top of Jekyll's head.

           Fourth at the table, was a yawning white face, framed by the unique silhouette created by his tall, wide peaked trilby, black along with everything else in his attire, save for the paint on his features. Pince-nez glasses were pinched lightly but firmly onto his nose, saved from having to grip behind ears. The long leather duster was folded in such a way that showed invisible arms were crossed over a broad chest, refined but not overly muscular in a way that suggested amazing strength. He had an air of stealth and cunning, with a sly ever-present smirk that betrayed his love for mischief. He bobbed his booted foot over one knee to a nonexistent rhythm only he could hear, and glanced around him lazily at the decorations. Rodney Skinner, self-proclaimed 'gentleman thief' sighed lightly, and craned his neck.

           The final figure was perhaps the most relaxed-appearing of all of them. His slouch was less than subtle, and his posture betrayed his years. He was about five seconds of boredom away from putting a boot on the table, but seemed to be refraining from such action lest it earn him a scolding. His body was thin, but not overly so, tall and athletic, showing he either exercised religiously, or was in the business of pursuit. Green, hazel-flecked eyes showed intelligence and a wit unbecoming someone of his years and – seemingly – lack of experience. His defined chest rose and fell with a lazy sigh, and he rolled strong shoulders under a black cloth duster, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows beneath. A black waistcoat rested unbuttoned above that, and the edges of a holster harness could be seen about his torso, normally housing two polished and cherished Colt six-shooter pistols. Blonde hair fell youthfully around his boyish features, resting on his furrowed brow in gentle locks that seemed to have lost a little curl over the time in whatever service he worked for. Braces hung down from his belt, having no real purpose other than to sit uselessly and give him an adolescent 'appeal'. His normal cheeky and inwardly charming grin was not present, instead his mouth was slightly down turned into a pensive frown as he twirled one of his pistols around his right hand using the trigger guard, reflecting wan light in every direction. Beside him rested a prized Winchester lever action rifle, housing eight rounds of explosive ammunition, propped against his leaning chair. The stock had been decorated with a silver dollar on one side, and the firing chamber had been styled with delicate inscriptions, making it a true one of a kind weapon that he adored, though it was not his first, and he had had to acquire a new one in his country of origin. Special Agent Thomas 'Tom' Sawyer of the American Secret Service raised his thoughtful gaze to the woman at the table for a secretive moment, before falling back to his idle amusement. 

           When it seemed the only noise would be that of Jekyll's light humming, and the rhythmic tick-tock of the clock hung high upon the wall above the tall oak doors opposite the table, a cockney accent broke the tension, "Well… this is riveting, but I'm sure there's a _reason_ we're all goin' numb in these godforsaken chairs, 'eh?" His blank – quite literally – gaze turned upon the government officials, representatives of 'Her Majesty's Empire' and Skinner raised his painted brows.

           As usual, it was Campion Bond – and not Mycroft Holmes – who spoke, saying in response, "Patience gentlemen." He paused, his somewhat nervous gaze meeting that of Mina Harker. He cleared his throat and added, "And lady, of course. We need wait only a few moments more, I am certain."

           Mycroft Holmes nodded aloofly, and Tom Sawyer rolled his eyes with boredom and annoyance at the lofty behaviour of the bureaucrats. They all seemed the same to him, and each one he had met over the years had irritated the life out of him, just about. He had been inches – each time – from breaking their nose or pulling a gun just to get them to act normal or shut up. He knew he couldn't do that here… ever since the British Empire had instated them as an _official _team – wherein the Queen had realised she really did need elite protection such as this – and they now followed – at least for the most part – the orders of the two men standing before them, or any of their lackeys they sent to do their job for them. Lazy, in Tom's opinion.

           But Skinner had a good point… they had been summoned, from the middle of the Atlantic no less, in order to sit in the lower levels of the Albion Museum – their headquarters – for, it seemed, no reason. They had been here nearly half an hour, musing away, and watching the time trickle past. 

           "What _are_ we waiting for?" Tom inquired when his patience hit a barrier, and refused to stretch any further. "We weren't exactly sittin' on our hands when you sent the message, y'know."

           "Agent Sawyer," Mycroft began, and startled the American by speaking at all. Tom actually nearly lost the grip on his Colt, snapping his fingers around the handle so suddenly that it jolted slightly. The youthful emerald gaze floated to the larger of the two men and locked there as he persisted in his firm accent, "I should imagine you will relent from speaking any further in a negative manner when you realise the _reason_ for such a message, hmm?"

           _Maybe I will and maybe I won't_, Tom thought, dropping his gaze and feeling a little lower all of a sudden, as though he had been knocked down a peg, despite being joint commander of the _League of Extraordinary Gentlemen_ along with Mina Harker. It wasn't that he couldn't handle the responsibility of leadership on his own… no, he had enforced missions at the Secret Service a few times in the past, but this was different… he wanted help, as it were. This wasn't just America's safety he was dealing with anymore… this was the _world_. He welcomed the assistance, and knew Mina was more than happy to provide it.

           Clearing her throat, Mina sat forward a little more in her chair, and leaned over the table. Tom caught her visual cue, and did the same, tilting his head so she could whisper in his ear; "We will give them five more minutes… and then leave, whether they authorise it or not."

           Tom nodded subtlely, and took satisfaction in seeing the curiousity on Campion Bond's round face. Tom offered him a lazy, crooked smile, and settled back into the slouch he had assumed ten minutes previous. He twirled the Colt a few more times, watched by Jekyll, and slotted it firmly back into its holster on the right side of his waist, mirroring the other.

           That was when there was a loud knock on the double doors that shut off the room they occupied. The eyes of the _League_ and its liaisons turned as one to the barricade, and Mycroft called out clearly, "Enter."

           The American was sure – when looking at the faces of his companions – that he was not the only one who sensed trepidation when those handles started to shift downward to open the doors. Without explanation, a shiver ran along his spine, and his brow furrowed uncertainly, even as the doors parted, and permitted a figure entry. 

           He was pretty damn certain that if he had still been holding his pistol at that moment, he would have clean dropped it to the floor in an instant. His eyes widened – and though he would never admit it due to pride, he thought they welled slightly – and his jaw dropped just a little as his breath caught in his throat. 

           All around him – save for, annoyingly, Holmes and Bond – the rest of the _League_ took on similar expressions of shock, disbelief and downright confusion as the man strode a few steps further into illumination. He lifted the peak of his adventurer's cap, and bent it slightly upward, revealing the dark yet wise eyes, beneath greying brows and whitening hair. His trim beard and moustached lined his mouth, which was slightly upturned into a mildly amused smile at their reactions. There was a tan-grey sash tied loosely but securely around his neck, widening the collar of his white shirt, covered with a taupe waistcoat, complete with pouches and slots for bullets and hunter's equipment. The vague shape of a pair of spectacles could be made out in the breast pocket on the right of the waistcoat, only partially covered by the lapel of the long brown leathery coat that brushed around the hardy boots, where the hilt of a blade protruded from one top. His pants were beige, and rimmed with a rawhide belt, where a menacing bowie knife was slotted securely. Inside the jacket – Tom knew fair well – was a Webley revolver, slotted into a single holster, and hidden from prying eyes. Finally, in his weathered hands, covered with wrinkles that showed his age and experience from adventures long completed and hunts long succeeded… was a Winchester rifle; lever action… holding eight rounds, with a dollar in the stock and inscribed ornately around the chamber.

           Tom could not slow his racing heart as the tall man that was Allan Quatermain stepped closer once again, saying, "Hello again."

           No one spoke… no one could find the words with which to return the man's greeting. All simply stared as though they had seen a ghost, which – in Tom's opinion – was very much the case. He had died… Tom had seen it happen, considered himself to blame for the demise of the great white hunter. He had been stabbed in the back whilst saving Tom Sawyer's life, and had died not long after at the hands of Professor James Moriarty, now deceased at _Tom's _hands.

           "You died…" Skinner uttered none too eloquently. He slurred his words as though drunk – which, for once, was not the case – and stammered as if nervous. 

           "I did, yes," Quatermain responded with an acknowledging nod, furrowing his brow with a smile of mirth as he continued, "but, Mr. Skinner, I thought you would at least remember what I told Dorian Gray in his library." When the invisible thief did not respond in any shape, way or form, Quatermain added, "_…Africa would never allow me to die_…"

           "Bloody _hell_…"

           "Good lord… it _is _good to see you again," Jekyll fumbled, and blinked disbelievingly for a few moments, not really sure how he had managed to speak a whole sentence.

           "Mr. Quatermain… it is truly a miracle… and I welcome it," Nemo said, speaking for the first time since entering the Albion Museum, and it was with a tone of awe that he did so. He nodded his head in respect to Quatermain, who returned the gesture. The two men had always got along well, and treated each other kindly given their first impressions.

           "Mr. Q… welcome back," Mina managed to say breathlessly, as though she had never seen anything so astonishing in her life. Her blue eyes were filled with wonder, and she only barely forced a smile onto her flawless face. Quatermain laughed quietly, and thanked her.

           And that was when he stopped in front of the silent American youth, who could only stare up at him in shock and disbelief, breathing quickly at what he had never – until this moment – thought possible. He was so close, he could be touched if Tom reached out with a hand, but he was too amazed to do, and he narrowed his eyes for a moment, trying to make words come into being, and failing spectacularly in a fashion that must have made Jekyll blush. 

           Quatermain saved him the trouble, saying, "Sawyer," in a fatherly way that broke the tense silence and stirred Tom into action. He practically leapt from his chair, and threw his arms around the hunter in a tight and reassuring embrace, closing his eyes as he buried his head in the broad shoulder, feeling the affirming hand on his back as Quatermain added, "I missed you too."

           Tom pulled himself away, slightly embarrassed, and quickly cleared his throat, his blonde bangs in youthful disarray, before he said, "Don't scare me like that again…"

           Quatermain chuckled lightly, and nodded, before raising the Winchester in an offer, holding it forward gently. "I think this belongs to you… you left it behind."

           Tom moved to take it back, and then stopped himself, curling his hand into a light fist, before he said, "I meant to."

           Quatermain nodded, even as the voice of Holmes broke the moment, much to Tom's chagrin, "I hate to disrupt the reunion, gentlemen… and lady, but I believe I hear someone approaching, considering Mr. Quatermain _did_ leave the door open."

           The older of the men in the room raised a greying brow in a reproachful manner, and huffed quietly in regards to the gentle chide. When Tom paid attention, he too could hear someone coming closer. Their echoing footfalls were hard to miss, channelled down the staircase to their ears. 

           "Are we to assume that Mr. Quatermain is to be rejoining the _League_?" Nemo inquired in his normal, calm tones, ones that commanded attention and respect. Campion Bond looked in his direction and nodded.

           "If that is his wish."

           "It is," Quatermain confirmed immediately, and patted Tom on the shoulder encouragingly, before taking the empty seat next to where the American had been sitting, on the curve of the table between the two new leaders of the team. Tom took his chair again, still shaky after the shock. Back from the dead… he couldn't believe it, and he _far_ from understood it. He assumed it had something to do with that odd man he had seen in Africa, chanting and parading around a fire, but he decided not to dwell on it, and instead return to the matter at hand.

           A gruff looking gentlemen – whom the _League_ had seen before, and knew to be in Holmes' employ – entered the room somewhat apprehensively, as if afraid to disrupt the meeting that was in order. He cleared his throat nervously, and stammered, "Excuse me… um… Mr. Holmes, sir?"

           "Yes, Wilkins?" 

           "We… we've received word from some locals on the outskirts of London, along with our officials in that area… that there is a disturbance that could use your attentions… sir." Wilkins shuffled on his feet and wrung his hands as though he had never been so intimidated in his life. 

           "What kind of disturbance?" Holmes inquired further, knitting his brow in a perplexed manner.

           Wilkins coughed lightly, and scratched his grubby fingers through his hair, before saying, "Well, sir… it would appear as though something has fallen out of the sky."

           "… Out of the _sky_, Wilkins?" Bond urged, sceptical, but dabbing his brow with the handkerchief once again.

           "Yes… some people saw it crash into the common. That was a few hours ago. Locals have been approaching it to investigate despite the officers instructing them to keep back. Some have even entered the pit with _digging_ equipment, Mr. Holmes. We thought you'd be wanting to know, as it were."

           Holmes nodded. "Very well, Wilkins. Dismissed. Have a cab waiting out the front for our associates, would you? And a separate one for Mr. Bond and a guard to accompany him."

           "Yes, sir." With that, Wilkins scuttled away, reminding Tom none too gracefully of a terrified insect. Raising a brow, Tom regarded Holmes.

           "You're sending us out there?" Jekyll asked, confused. The pocket watch opened and closed in his hand, over and over… open, closed, open, closed. 

           "Yes I am, Dr. Jekyll. I take it there are no objections? From the sounds of it… this is _right_ up your alley." The intelligent eyes cast collectively over the team gathered. As he suspected, there _were_ no objections, and that was when Holmes and Bond took their leave.

           The _League_ looked on after them, a team of six once again, and remained in confused silence until Skinner chose to speak somewhat casually, "Well," he said, "looks like our holiday's over."


	2. Flame and Retribution

**Author's Note:** Well, so glad to see you enjoyed the prologue! Goody, goody… *rubs hands together* I had planned for _this_ chapter to be a little longer, but it seemed the right time to end it when I did. There's a bit of foul language in this chapter and some… nastiness, so if you're strict about that or squeamish… might want to get someone to test read it for you first *grins* Lol. Anyway, expect the next update soon. Here's the acknowledgements…

**Drakena – **I'm glad you're interested. I haven't read the book, but I saw the movie. Creepy as heck. You'll have to wait and see what happens I'm afraid, lol.

**LotRseer3350 – **Hey, thanks. 

**Sethoz – **Very clever quote, lol. I thank you kindly for your praise. : )

**Lady Moon3 – **Thank you very much. : )

**BloodMoonLycan – **Hehe, thanks, Lycan! 

The acknowledgements would be longer, but its _very_ early, and my parents are miffed… d'oh. On with the show!

           *         *         *

           The carriage ride had not been long, and after a short journey, they arrived at the outskirts of London, on the rim of the common, their transport drawn by six large, powerful horses, which stamped their feet as the coach pulled to a final stop, shaking their heads with loud, tired snorts as they sent their manes into disarray, their blinkered eyes wide with a fright that could not –as of yet – be explained. The driver of the cab was a rough and grim man called Boyd. Though his name sounded Scottish, when they heard him speak – which was always with apparent venom and irritation in his tone – he sounded as though he had lived his entire life in or around London.

           The door opened at the hand of a policeman from the outside. Allan Quatermain, the hunter, stepped out proudly, landing on firm boots and striding away, followed by the rest of the _League_. He held the Winchester in his hand, ready, just in case something threatened. Nemo stepped out behind him, straightening his layers of pressed clothing, and resting his hand on his scabbard once more, with a rising of the eyebrow at the sight that awaited them. Dr. Jekyll was third, tugging at his colour and perspiring lightly as though overcome with a severe case of wracked nerves, clearing his throat quietly and glancing left and right. Mina Harker followed after that, levelling her veiled hat atop her head and casting a blue eyed gaze around, and making a quite noise of disapproval at what greeted her. Skinner dropped out of the carriage, landing simultaneously on both feet with a high-pitched whistle that stretched out into a tune, a newspaper rolled up under one arm. Finally, Tom Sawyer stepped out cautiously, cap atop his head, and Winchester over one shoulder, completing the group of five, before they walked in a line, side by side, toward the crowd.

           There was a wan glow coming from fires that people had built, amidst the crowd… which was a mass of both curious and frightened people of all sizes and ages, ranging from businessmen to tramps, who obviously had nothing better to do. Children clung to parents, and dogs ran in all directions, barking and nipping at heels – whether that be canine or human – and Skinner shooed one away, threatening it with his newspaper. Sawyer threw him a curious gaze, causing the thief to say, "Never was one for dogs. Always knew I was there, aheh."

           Mina raised a brow, and rolled her eyes casually with a slight smile, before pressing on between Sawyer and Quatermain, her veil casting a netted shadow over her face. The object – whatever it was – had fallen in the early hours of the morning, and whilst they had been in the Albion, combined with waiting for a coach, more than a few hours had passed, and the sun seemed to be retiring early. The light was already failing, and even as they approached a break in the crowd, they could see the large figure that was Campion Bond, smoking a cigarette and instructing an officer as to his duties. There were a large handful of policemen dotted around, keeping – or trying – people back from the edge of the pit in their line of site. Bond turned as they approached, his coat swirling at his ankles, his cane in one hand and his cigarette holder in the other. He looked extremely pompous and Mina had to fight back the sneer. She had never liked the man.

           "Mr. Bond?" she called to him, and the _League_ stopped about ten feet from him, as though collectively unwilling to approach any more. His dark eyes met hers, and his brows rose expectantly.

           "Ah. Mrs. Harker… gentlemen."

           Bond approached them instead, clearing his throat and nodding to the men, inclining his head a little to Mina. She rolled her eyes with a light turn of her head. She did not want his 'chivalry' or manners… she wanted him out of her sight so they could investigate this disturbance. Was that too much to ask for, she wondered?

           "Where's Holmes?" Sawyer asked bluntly, casting his young, but intelligent gaze around, smiling a little dejectedly at a small boy playing with his dog, as though lost in a memory. "Isn't he here?"

           "The new M doesn't like to travel much. As you are aware, he sent me to liase with you." Bond furrowed his brow as he glanced around as well, tapping some ash from the end of his cigarette before taking another puff. "I still cannot understand what is happening exactly. Have you been able to figure anything out as of yet?"

           "Mr. Bond," Quatermain interjected roughly, "we have been on the scene for a grand total of two minutes. What makes you believe we could ascertain _anything_ in so short a time, hmm?" He raised his dark brows, and Sawyer smirked, shouldering his rifle a little more, ever the cowboy, Mina thought humorously. A gentlemanly, considerate cowboy nevertheless, but still… somewhat a gunslinger at heart.

           "Nobody is entirely sure as to what is happening," Mina cut in before a disagreement could begin and swell out of control. "It seems, from hearsay, that an object arrived here early this morning, as Wilkins told us. Is it a military project of some kind?" Mina usually handled this side of things, whereas Tom Sawyer took care of the 'manly' side… as in interrogation and plans of action. He was actually rather good at it.

           "I assure you," Bond began as they started to make their way along, through the crowd once again, pressing closer to the pit at the centre of attention, "we've nothing like that at present. Perhaps the French."

           _What a bureaucrat…_

           "Or the Prussians." Bond took another drag on his cigarette, shaking his head disappointedly, as if musing over the places mentioned. 

           _That's it… blame **everyone** else._ Mina took another step on the chain and decided she really did not like the man at all. He seemed to have his head somewhere where he could not see reason due to its positioning, and it was blinding him to other possibilities. Up in the clouds maybe, although there was another place she imagined…

           They reached the edge of the colossal pit then, and they stood side by side at its drop face, looking down on the massive bullet-shaped object that sat snugly in the centre of it all, with eyes washing over it. Movement could be seen all around it, people milling about with shovels and equipment, as Wilkins had reported. There were simply dozens of them, and Mina cast her gaze over them, trying to get an idea of the number, before she gave up, and turned to Jekyll at the sound of the man's voice.

           "What are those labourers doing down there? Do they have permission, do you think?" he asked, squinting to get a better view, fiddling – as ever – with his pocket watch, nervously… more so than normal. Mina had noticed that recently, and though it was worrying her, she didn't dare to inquire, for fear of making it worse. Jekyll respected others' privacy, so she saw it only fit to do the same.

           "They're performing the humane task of assisting anyone…" Bond began loftily, as though bored, glancing to the glowing end of his cigarette, "English, French _or_ Prussian, who might still be _alive_ in that hulk." He turned his head in Jekyll's direction, shrugging lightly beneath his ghastly jacket. "I don't imagine they felt permission was _necessary_."

           Sawyer looked agitated for some reason, and was watching the children as they played nearby as though concerned one of them would fall into the pit. He looked poised and ready to spring to their aid if they stumbled, even as he said, "I heard someone say about that Stent guy… the astronomer everyone's been talking about."

           Bond was dismissive at once, scoffing, "Stent's a babbling _lunatic_. He probably thinks this proves his eccentric theories of life on other _planets_." He chuckled, shaking his head as he tapped his cigarette end again, muttering quietly beneath his breath, even as Skinner ruffled the pages of his newspaper, lifting them to his face again and reading closely.

           "And is the notion truly so insane, Mr. Bond?" Nemo asked casually, his tone calm and precise as always. He never took his mysterious gaze from the labourers. 

           Mina nodded. "You've said so yourself that England is planning a moon expedition."

           "Well, yes. But we're not expecting to find _life_ there, Mrs. Harker!"

           She growled in the recesses of her throat, narrowing her eyes in a way that seemed to dare the man to chide her again, before Quatermain interrupted by raising an arm to gesture, saying, "Look up there. Something' happening…"

           "Blimey!" someone yelled inside the pit, the voice carrying to the _League_ as they all assumed ready positions, prepared to spring into action. The Winchesters lowered – or rose respectively – and the crack of their cocking was heard. Skinner's paper was lowered drastically, and held only in one hand. He ignored the fact that he lost the middle pages when they fell to the dirty ground, his covered eyes fixed firmly on the object as it began to _move_.

           Cries rose out from around the common from those who could see the spectacle, even as the 'bullet' started to shift and quake, mud falling from its shell. "Keep back, you men!" cried one of the labourers, one who seemed to be in charge of the operation.

           Someone to Nemo's right yelled in a panic, and the Indian threw him or her a reproachful glance as if to tell them to keep their head in the situation, his hand never leaving the hilt of his sword.

           A man screamed as he toppled, landing in a cloud of dust at the bottom of the pit from the ledge where he had fallen, and the _League_ all cursed inwardly, regretful that they could not do more. Mina was about a heartbeat away from carrying herself on bat's wings into the pit to help any way she could, before the end of the shell _fell_ from its lodgings and careened into the crater with a clang and a dull, resonating thud that echoed around the common for a few unbearable moments.

           "Ooh, _gawd_," someone behind Skinner muttered, and he winced at their over exaggerated cockney accent. 

           Before anyone could say or _do_ anything further, something started to wriggle inside the cavernous interior of the now opened object. The eyes of the _League_ widened collectively as something started to come into focus, shuffling to the front of the opening, tentacles – from the looks of it – squirming out in front as if to feel its way through the darkness that prevailed within.

           That was when it entered the light, and Sawyer for one – along with Jekyll – did not hide his disgust. He grimaced and visibly edged away, his eyes showing his disbelief as to the _thing_ that was pushing its way forward into the failing sunlight. It oozed with something that Mina could only imagine – with her far too vivid imagination – was mucus of some sort, and seemed to stare blankly with large, vacant black orbs of eyes, opening a wicked maw that dripped saliva. Tentacles rippled around its front, and its bulbous body looked gorged and hideous.

           It seemed from their collective reactions that they could not move, and in a few of them, that was quite literally the case. Skinner dropped his paper in shock, his jaw dropping. Jekyll paled considerably. Quatermain gripped his rifle tighter, and Sawyer did not move at all for surprise and disbelief. Nemo's eyes hardened and his jaw set grimly. Mina, for one, had never seen something so hideous yet fascinating at the same time, and was beside herself for what to do. Bond was mopping his forehead with his handkerchief, mumbling in dismay.

           "Maybe we should move back, 'eh?" Skinner muttered shakily, unable to hold back the apparent fear from his voice. He glanced inquiringly to his fellows, and they did as he suggested, possibly without realising. Mina was reluctant, intrigued yet horrified, and wanted to get a closer look, even as the bizarre creature shifted its weight at the edge of the shell, and then _dropped_ out of it, even as one of the men who had fallen climbed his way toward the top of the rim. The creature waved its lengthy tentacles, and wriggled, as if trying to move, but Mina noticed the difficulty with which it did so. It seemed exhausted or wounded, and she wondered which it was.

           When Mina glanced around her to see where they were, she said, "Surely we're far enough from the hole _now_. I believe we can stop."

           "We don't know what it can do, Mrs. Harker," Sawyer said to her, and she thought she detected a slight hint of panic in his voice. Suddenly, she was concerned, especially when she saw the fear in his eyes. 

           "Calm yourself, Agent Sawyer," Nemo said stalwartly. "Mrs. Harker is correct… whatever breed of devil that was, it could barely move."

           Sawyer glanced to Nemo, removed his cap, and sighed. "You're right. Sorry." He appeared ashamed or apprehensive all of a sudden, and his eyes lowered as he muttered, "Just reminded me of a dream I had once…" Mina believed she was the only one who heard him, for the others appeared not to notice. She kept her eyes on the young man for a moment, fascinated by his change in posture and expression. He seemed lost in memory for a moment, once again, and she was tempted to reach out to comfort him, when she heard voices from behind her, as the locals in the crowd spoke of what they had seen.

           "What ugly _brutes_!" one was saying stiffly. "Good god, what ugly brutes!"

           As Mina mused on the prejudice of some people, she heard Skinner speak, with a more stable tone, "Life from other worlds, 'eh, Bond? Earlier, someone mentioned those Martian volcanoes everyone's been jabberin' about. Saw it in the paper too." He gestured to where his tabloid was fluttering in the breeze and regarded the government representative through his glasses.

            "Th… that's just coincidence, I'm sure," Bond muttered. When he continued, his volume increased, "This crowd's been gathering all day. Obviously, wild rumours are circulating." He tutted.

           "_Someone's_ taking it seriously. Isn't that the astronomer royal, that Stent fellow, in the pit now?" Quatermain pointed out, waving with the barrel of the Winchester. He and Sawyer moved forward together, and Mina followed them, her scarf catching in the breeze slightly. It remained around her neck, but gave her a flighty appearance that was rather fitting. Skinner, Jekyll and Nemo stuck close, with Bond scuttling up to their rear. They formed a line at the edge of the pit again, seeing the hideous 'alien' turn its vacant black eyes in the direction of the men entering its nest of a landing site.

           Indeed, as Quatermain had stated, Stent was at the head of the group. In his hand he carried a pole, with a white cloth, like a large handkerchief fixed to it. It flapped in the wind, and Mina couldn't take her eyes off it for a moment. She couldn't help the feeling of foreboding that settled in her, and glancing to Sawyer and Quatermain, she saw it mirrored on their wary faces. Stent wasn't alone either. A suited, bespectacled gentleman with a cane was behind him, carefully making his way down, and someone was helping an elderly man along unsteadily. A fifth man was in their group, but she could make out very little about him from their distance, despite her supernaturally heightened sight.

           "That's Stent with the white flag," Jekyll pointed out. Perhaps he had met him, as he was able to identify him so certainly in so short a space of time from the distance, but this was no time to inquire. "I think the clergyman might be the Reverend Harding who writes to the newspapers so often." Skinner nodded in an affirming manner, and shoved the toe of his footwear into his flapping tabloid on the floor. It blew in all directions away from them, and off above the crowd. He watched it for a moment.

           "Those fools aren't authorised to make an approach," Bond growled as though he had been slapped in the face… hard. "What do they think they're doing?"

           Mina listened to the voices drifting from down below, and paid close attention to their actions as they moved past the abandoned equipment from the fled workers, and approached the odd beast.

           "Steady, old fellow, I've got you," the reverend's assistant said to him softly. 

           Stent lifted the flag carefully, trying not to make any sudden movements, and the _League_ watched, eyes fixed on him as he said, "It's all right, everyone… I think our chap's spotted us." He gestured slightly with the flag then and addressed the creature as though he expected it to return his greeting. "I say, you there! Peace, 'eh?"

           The creature made a low groan of a noise, and waved its tentacles expectantly, almost, never taking its eyes from the approaching strangers.

           "We come in _peace_…" Stent emphasised, and Mina winced at the cliché.

           "What's happening?" Bond blurted. "Are they _talking_ to that thing? I can't see them below the edge of the pit."

           He was quite right. They had lost sight of them for the most part, and even the vampiress was having trouble making them out now. 

           "Aheh, you could always step _closer_," Skinner muttered, and Jekyll hid his smirk. Sawyer was too taken up in his horrified awe to react, as he normally would have.

           "Actually, one of us _could_ go and observe," Mina suggested coolly. "I'll-"

           "No," Quatermain barked. "It isn't-"

           A puff of great green smoke wafting in front of them made Quatermain and Mina freeze in their bickering, and the hunter's hand hovered, reaching out for the woman's arm. Sawyer's jaw dropped slightly, and his breathing became that little more rapid.

           Something had emerged from within the shell of the – she guessed – ship, and it rose as if on a steel neck, smoke of an eerie colour of green slipping around its metal head. In the centre was what resembled a green eye, never blinking, but ever glowing as if enraged and burning with a fire of hatred. It chilled Mina to the bone to see it, and subconsciously, her eyes widened just that little bit more and she edged closer to Sawyer, ready to grab him should something happen, though she wasn't sure what good it would do.

           And then it happened…

           "What on…" Stent muttered at the sight of the object that had appeared, shortly before an ember that appeared out of nowhere seemed to spark on his clothing. It swirled around him, and engulfed his torso hungrily with an otherworldly speed, eating away at him with green flames that hissed and roared. 

           "_Stent_!" his companion cried.

           "Oh god," the reverend wheezed, shortly before the others were consumed as well. The flag dropped, burning merrily, to the ground, landing in the dirt and blazing as the fire destroyed the men.

           A curse died on Sawyer's lips, even as the object extended on the neck, up over the rim of the pit, glaring frighteningly over the crowd that had gathered.

           "_Down_!" Nemo bellowed, and slammed into the rest of the _League_, barrelling them all with the force of a human anvil to the ground, where the wind was knocked out of them. "Everybody get _down_!" Mina wasn't sure whether the was yelling to the crowd as well, but Bond threw himself down also, covering his head and hugging it protectively. Sawyer and Mina did the same, and she screwed her eyes shut, hearing the American's rapid breathing. Skinner tugged his trilby tighter to his skull, and Jekyll – she wasn't certain – pulled his jacket around his face. Nemo and Quatermain were close on their respective sides to Sawyer and Mina, as if protectively, and the hunter had an arm pushing down on the spy, as if to keep him from moving.

           The horrible, sickening smell of burning flesh reached her nostrils despite her face practically being tucked away, and she gagged though she was trying not to. The crackling of flame reached her ears, and the screams started, reaching a fever pitch as the heat washed over them and around them, brushing at their exposed skin. She felt more than saw Sawyer and Skinner's fear, and when she glanced very slightly to her right, she saw the American's tremble. She had forgotten about the incident in Mongolia until now. Skinner even whimpered.

           _Dear god…_

           The wailing of a dog made her stomach twist with discomfort and the smell worsened as the pitched screech of a horse close by, in terror, made her eyes screw shut even tighter, so tight in fact that colours danced their merry way behind the lids. The last of the screams started to fade away as the heat receded slightly, wafting back from them, and risking a glance towards the pit, she saw the weapon – or whatever it was – had disappeared again, receded into its shell. She was beyond thankful, and breathed out a sigh of relief, glancing quickly to her left and right to find the rest of the _League_ still intact, and alive, if not shaken. Skinner coughed, quietly at first, and then letting the volume grow, dusting off his trilby, before looking up from underneath it. "Bloody hell… bloody hell… _bloody hell_!" He yelled the last, emphasised curse in the hopes that it might help his nerves.

           Sawyer and Quatermain glanced up together, the former still trembling slightly, his grip on his rifle so tight that his knuckles had paled and the gun rattled. Mina touched his arm gently, as he muttered, "Shit…"

           Before Quatermain could say what it was he obviously wished to, there was a deafening roar to the left of Nemo, and a huge, surging shape pounced upright, tearing the remains of the white shirt and black jacket from its bulging, muscular frame.

           Edward Hyde!

           "You **_bastards_**!" he bellowed in a rage, flailing his limbs and roaring. "I'll _eat_ you, you bastards!"

           Mina and the others stood shakily, eyes wide in shock as to the sudden appearance of Dr. Jekyll's beastly alter ego, wondering when the man had taken his elixir. 

           "Oh, dear lord, not now," Quatermain grumbled, disturbing something with his foot. Sawyer bent down, and lifted a shard of a small glass vial with his hand, glancing to Mina, before turning his gaze back at the infuriated Hyde.

           "Hyde, that's enough!" Nemo commanded, impatiently for a change. "We have to get off the common _now_!"

           "_No_! I'll tear out your _brains_, you slimy buggers!" Hyde roared, and Mina stepped before him, poised for a fight if he wanted one, even as he persisted, "I'll trample your _hearts_!"

           "No, sir, you will _not_," she hissed at him, letting the demonic red consume her blue eyes and remain threateningly. She had no idea if she could handle Hyde and his brute strength, but she was willing to try if he got out of hand. "You are not _fireproof_, nor do I believe you to be _stupid_. Now back _down_, Hyde."

           The beady eyes, filled with fury, turned on Mina, and she saw the slight cut on his chest, where it seemed a shard of glass may have wounded him slightly… his elixir vial… it must have shattered upon landing on the hard ground, and perhaps it had seeped into his bloodstream. Fighting down the chemist within her, she growled quietly, waiting for the submission that she hoped would come.

           "Wh… when did he change?" Bond chattered, a nervous wreck now, his neatness lost in the chaos.

           "Probably when that thing started firing," Sawyer replied, turning the glass over and over in his hand, before dropping it carelessly back to the common. "Mrs. Harker, are you all right?"

           "Of course I am," Mina snapped, in no mood for his gentlemanly consideration when faced with Hyde. She turned her attention back on the brute, seeing his slight relaxation, and taking the oppurtunity to say, "Now, Mr. Hyde, will you please escort us from this hellish place?"

           She had not dared – along with the others – to regard the massacre around them yet. The fires still raged, and she could feel their heat, see Sawyer and Skinner's hesitance at its proximity. Both pushed it down, it seemed, and squared their shoulders. 

           "I…" Hyde pondered for a moment, before growling and letting his shoulders slump at the defeat. "All right. But they needn't think I've _forgotten_ them!"

           _I very much doubt you would let them_, Mina thought. 

           The _League of Extraordinary Gentlemen_ turned to the common's expanse then, and as one, their faces fell at the death and utter destruction they saw there. No one had been spared… men, women, children and animals alike had been burnt into ashes and nothing but withered skeletons that were twisted into rotten, horrid shapes that screamed of painful ends. Some of the skeletal mouths were open in silenced wails of agony, and Mina shuddered once. She had seen horrors in her time… but this…

           This was quite possibly the worst canvas of slaughter she had ever seen. She tried her best not to notice the withered remains of a mother and her baby not ten feet from them, and tears burned madly in her eyes before she blinked them back swiftly. 

           Sawyer's face was painful to look upon, just to see the youthful distress there, and the tears in his own green eyes as he observed the carnage. He moved forward, his boot brushing past a child's plaything, a… it was impossible to make out the definite shape and identity with the damage done to it, but he stared at it for a horrible long moment, before he closed his eyes and said heavily, "Come on… let's get out of here."


	3. Divided?

**Author's Note:** Well, hopefully I didn't keep you waiting too long. I don't think I did, but then again, you're the readers, not me… so how would I know? … I have such a talent for rambling, don't I? Anyway, you're not being kept in suspense if you've already read the comic, lol, but no matter. Time for Part 3… where things start to get just that little bit more… (dare I say it?) tense.

**LotRseer3350 – **I like darkness sometimes. It adds an oddly enticing sense of mystery and drama. Well, the _League_ avoided the fire in the book by simply remaining still on the ground, and in theory, they were close enough to the pit's edge to avoid the beam. They were also low enough. Hyde was mad at the aliens. :)  Don't worry, he isn't going to start tearing the _League_ apart… aheh…

**TARilus – **Thanks for that. Had to explain it somehow, because of the fact that, in the books, he doesn't need his elixir. So I had to think of something. Thanks for the comment regarding the Martians (though I am inwardly thanking Alan Moore and Kevin O'Neill) and about Sawyer – it's taking a lot of planning, but I'm getting there.

**Angharad – **Oh yes, lots more.

**Sethoz – **Hehe, holy ostrich :D I am so glad you enjoyed that, Sethoz. Fuzzy feelings? Mina and Tom? In one of _my_ stories?! *looks at her track record* Oh wait… never mind. The dead… yes… I could have gone into much more detail, and despite the rating I've used… I still decided not to. Maybe later. Love the quote… you're quite resourceful with these ;)

**Nathan-Daystorm – ***feeds you an Oreo cookie* Updating as soon as possible, dear friend! Medicine is good, so long as it's prescribed, lol. Gullivar stuff? Now _I'm_ confused… thanks for the review!

**Leigh S. Durron – **Edge of the seat already? Wow! Excellent, and thanks!

**Raven Silvers – **I'm really glad you love it, as you've read the comics. Obviously, from your comment, you enjoy the dialogue I'm using, which I realise now, is simply beautiful, and if you don't believe that yet, wait until a scene later on in this chapter ;) 

And here, without any further ado, is Part 3 of **_Above & Beyond_**…

*         *         *

           Rodney Skinner was trembling so badly that he was amazed his spectacles remained on his face, whilst his perspiration didn't help the greasepaint much. He knew a reapplication was in order, if at all… he didn't know if he wanted to be seen with the feelings that swelled inside him, betraying his emotions, something that he was _not_ fond of in the slightest.

           The _League_ trudged all around him, and he hovered near the back, glancing over his leather-clad shoulder, back towards the pit where the fire had originated… though without being sparked… it had just _leapt_ into life, something so terrifying to Skinner that he closed his eyes… failing in blocking out the images for his invisible eyelids, which were – in turn – transparent. He cursed his curiousity, and greed, for having stolen Griffin's formula in the first place, and tried to keep pace with the others as conversation broke out, tones heavy and voices laced with concern and fear.

           "Nemo, that device," Quatermain was saying, "what _was_ it? It's practically sterilised the common." For emphasis, he shoved his boot into the ground, displaying his point. Sawyer moved alongside him quietly, seemingly lost in his thoughts.

           Nemo turned his dark gaze upon the hunter and replied, "I do not know. Some invisible beam of _heat_, perhaps, although the notion seems incredible."

           _They **are** aliens from another world_, Skinner found himself thinking sarcastically, and wondered where the musing had come from. Bond interrupted further pensiveness by saying in a shaken tone, "It's _all _incredible. I can barely take it in." He shook his head, perhaps trying to hide the fact that his entire – rather large – body was quaking too. "I… if that thing's truly from another _world_ then…"

           "Sir," Mina interjected coldly, venom in her voice, "it hardly appeared _Prussian_. It is my belief that we must assume the worst and plan accordingly."

           "Yes, yes, you're right." Bond nodded feverishly, beads of perspiration on his forehead. "Notify the _army _and so forth. E… everything's still under control. That creature can't get out of the crater."

           _Who's he tryin' to convince? Us or himself?_

           The policemen who had stopped with the carriage that had delivered the _League_ were waiting and watching anxiously to see what had happened on the common not five minutes ago, when the figures started to melt out of the flame lit shadows, silhouetted by the burning trees and bushes, the ground scorched here and there and littered with eerily ashen corpses. 

           "Oh sod me," one of them muttered with a narrowing of the eyes and a light groan as he sighed, pulling on the bit of the horse that tried to toss its head, tearing the mouth and nose downward sternly. The animal grunted and stamped a hoof. "Look sharp. It's Fatso and his _circus_ of freaks. They're _alive_."

           _Obviously doesn't know how loud he's speakin'… flamin' idiot. Mina won't be happy about that._ And when Skinner looked in the vampire's direction, she didn't exactly seem thrilled, but appeared willing to hold her tongue in light of the circumstances.

           "Mr. Bond, sir?" one of the other officers inquired as he strode forward, holding a kind of lantern aloft, peering out from beneath his helmet. "What happened on the common? We saw the green lights and the fires…"

           A growl floated to Skinner's ears, and he glanced warily to Hyde, who narrowed his eyes, so filled with hate and rage. Skinner was suddenly nervous of the large… creature. He wished Jekyll would come back, but knew simple hope would not make it so.

           "Everyone's dead," Bond told the officer, trying to keep his voice steady and failing splendidly. "Whatever's in that pit is hostile." He continued quickly, with haste and grand gesturing, "I shall require the carriage back to the city for myself, and nearby lodgings for my associates."

           _Cheeky bugger…_ None of the _League_ exactly looked overwhelmed with joy at the news, and glanced to one another questioningly at the statement the man had made.

           "There's an inn up the road sir, but-"

           "Splendid. Mrs. Harker, Agent Sawyer," Bond began upon turning so quickly that Skinner thought he might overbalance, "these money's should prove more than sufficient to secure overnight quarters for your party." He placed a bag in Mina's hand, and the jingle of coins revived a thirst in Skinner that he forced down… the pouch was so inviting.

           "We've been here long enough, Bond," Quatermain growled irritably. "You can't mean for us to spend the _night_ in this god-awful place." Sawyer stood defiantly beside his resurrected mentor, his cap and rifle in his hands, respectively, and narrowed his eyes in agreement with the older man.

           "I'll need you to watch the common's perimeter," Bond said in excuse. "At least until I can get the army out here and in position." Striding to the carriage, he rambled on, "Great god, what a mess, 'eh? What a _mess_. G… good luck to you all." With that, he hauled himself into the carriage, which rocked dangerously, and shut the door, closing off their view of the coward. They all glared after him with their annoyance blazing in their eyes, and sighed for the most part. Mina tossed the bag up in the air once, and caught it soundly in the same hand, shaking her head.

           The coach tore off towards the city, the officers riding atop it, the lanterns flickering on the side, and the bureaucrat tucked away inside. 

           "A vile coward if ever I saw one," Mina hissed, staring after the carriage that thundered away, her blue eyes cold and harsh. Skinner turned his head in her direction, noticing the others all did the same. "Well, I expect we'd best find the inn that the constable mentioned and make ourselves… 'comfortable'."

           "Great," Sawyer mumbled sarcastically, glancing in the direction of the common with trepidation on his features, even as they started off down the road, the only living souls within the range of the common, the littered remains burning their way into the _League's_ memories, perhaps forever to remain, and haunt the dreams and nightmares of each and every one, reminders of the failure; the lives they could not save…

*         *         *

           The Bleak House was a small, cosy inn set out at the very edges of London, roughly one mile away from Woking, with 'picturesque' scenery of the woodland and hills – if you could call them that – and quite a bit of wildlife… normally. It was all but nonexistent tonight, after the attack on the common. It was all but silent, a deathly kind of quiet that did nothing to improve the mood of the _League_ as they hovered near the building as Mina Harker negotiated with its owners. They had a small cart piled high with possessions, and a rather bedraggled donkey at the harness, chomping at the bit to get on the move. Its long ears twitched in anticipation, and it wailed in aggravation, eyes wide and alert.

           Allan Quatermain kept changing the grip on the Winchester, perhaps for lack of anything better to do. It was either that, or he was inwardly terrified at the sick twist of events. He glanced around him to the others in the small group… unless you counted Hyde. He wasn't exactly small, and could – in no way – be counted as such. He was glancing about, as if to try and find something to take out his aggression on, and Skinner had moved as far away from him as possible. Sawyer kept close to Allan, and the hunter kept a mental note of this. Nemo was stalwartly silent as always… annoyingly so, in fact.

           At that moment, Mina returned, no longer holding the small sack of coins, and sighed dramatically. "They say we can do whatever we like with the place." She threw a warning gaze at Hyde, whose shoulders slumped a little, noticeably. Perhaps he had – initially – taken that as an invite for carnage. "They heard about the uproar on the common. They just about to leave _anyway_."

           They looked to one another, as if waiting for someone to make the first move, when Sawyer shrugged, and suggested, "We might as well go inside and choose rooms then. No good standing out here freezing to death."

           "It's not _that_ cold," Skinner muttered… and Allan though he ought to know, being the one to walk around sans clothes after all. He_ was_ wearing the long leather jacket and trilby, but that couldn't provide much insulation. Allan smiled wanly, and followed the others towards the rather small inn. It was going to be interesting to watch Hyde squeeze through that doorway…

*         *         *

           For some bizarre reason, once inside the inn, Hyde had taken to trying to rearrange the furniture downstairs. It had taken the others quite a while to figure this behaviour out, so Edward had informed them – none too politely, he might add – that he was not a small creature, and needed _space_. They all fell back into silence after that, splitting off to find accommodation to their liking within the building. Skinner made his presence known behind the bar, and left picking a room until after everyone else was done. Clearly, sleeping wasn't something he planned on doing anytime soon… at least not until after a few sherries, scotches or glasses of wine.

           Edward watched all of this with a detached kind of interest, grunting every now and then to remind them he was around. He was glad Henry had been idiot enough to fall onto the vial and break it… he was more likely to last the night if those afterbirth bastards came along and tried to fry them all. The 'good doctor' was actually oddly quiet inside, as though taking the chance to ignore what was going on, and retreat within himself and think. Edward stared out of the window, glancing in the direction of the common with intrigue and an angry curiousity. His musings drifted back to Henry.

           _Coward_, Edward found himself thinking with a grimace. He couldn't bear the thought sometimes… sharing his body and very existence with a meagre being such as Henry Jekyll. But… it was Henry who had _given_ Edward life in the first place… so he supposed he _should_ be grateful.

           But he wasn't… and he didn't plan to be any time soon.

*         *         *

           Mina found a room on the one and only upper level of the building, with a pleasant – or as pleasant as it could be in a cheap place like this, not that she minded given the circumstances – bed, where a small black cat was sleeping fitfully. Either that or it was dead, but a stroke over its fur proved that it was very much alive. It arched it back with a slight groan of pleasure, and purred. Mina smiled lightly, sadly, and glanced to the sign that hung above the headrest.

           _'In God we trust'_… Mina huffed quietly, and rolled her eyes, reaching over and unhooking it from the wall, opening a drawer, and tossing it inside before closing it again. She most certainly was not in the mood. The cat watched her with intrigued emerald slits of laziness and discretion, and she wondered if the animal was aware of the immediate danger that had presented itself on the common. The cat blinked slowly, and went back to sleep, curling up.

           Taking the lamp, Mina went back down the hall, passing Nemo in his chosen room. He was pulling the mattress this way and that, having removed the sheets and the like. She wondered what he was doing, and he had removed his jacket for once, showing a neatly pressed shirt beneath. She had never seen him without his jacket before, and she raised a brow. Making a small note of the fact, and still curious as to what he was doing – but knowing better than to snoop – she passed on her way, carrying herself silently down the steps once more, and back into the sort of welcome, reception area of the inn. Skinner was positioned rigidly behind the bar, trilby on the counter beside him as he sloshed a beverage in a glass, and then downed it.

           Quatermain was admiring the antique guns on the wall, his hands folded over his chest, his dark eyes perusing the items with a critical interest. She had no doubt he could name each and every one of those weapons, but would never venture to inquire and prove herself right. Hyde was staring firmly out of the window, beady eyes never wavering, and she was a little disturbed by his vigilance in watching the common vicinity from such a place. And Sawyer… Tom Sawyer was seated rather dejectedly on the other side of the wooden bar, one elbow up on its surface. He looked deep in thought… or deeply troubled. Their eyes met for a moment, and then she set the lamp down, and walked out onto the porch.

           Crossing over the wooden planks underfoot, she took it upon herself to be seated on the sturdy oaken bench outside the door. Settling back into its somewhat uncomfortable backrest, she let her blue eyes wander skyward, where the stars blazed mysteriously, as if hiding secrets and letting them out piece by piece, with a twinkle and a slight flare every now and then, arranging them in a puzzle before Mina Harker for her to rearrange. Sighing, she let her mind wander also.

*         *         *

           Tom Sawyer lifted his eyes from the floor, seeing the clear, crystalline blue of Mina Harker's own looking back at him. They locked for a moment, never swaying, before she walked out of the door, looking forlorn and somewhat lost… something quite frightening in a vampire, he realised. He wasn't aware that she could appear so… so subtlely distraught. Perhaps she felt what they all did, except deeper inside, buried beneath the surface, locked away for later registration and release, so she could not be perceived as weak or… human. His youthful brow furrowed for a moment, and he tried to make up his mind what to do, irritated by the loud ticking of the grandfather clock that stood near to Quatermain, with a cat perched atop it, its amber eyes watching the room. 

           _Let's see… tough choice. Sit here and watch Skinner drink himself into unconsciousness… or go outside and try to talk with Mina._ Mind made up within an instant, he quietly and slowly stood from the single stool, and crossed towards the door. Quatermain took him by the arm, and looked deep into the young man's eyes, as if searching for something.

           "All right, Sawyer?"

           Tom nodded, feigning indifference, at the risk of appearing cold and inhumane. "I'm fine." Quatermain watched his expression for a moment, but from experience undercover, he had learned to bury it for a short time, and pushed it all down until he was alone, and then his fear would be allowed to manifest and torment him… undoubtedly, all night.

           He hovered in the doorway, seeing Mina sitting on the bench, and was suddenly reluctant to approach. She had to know he was there, but she was not showing it, and he wasn't sure what to make of that. It was either a silent invitation, or a mute request to be left alone. Tom tried to decide between the two, and for a few seconds, seriously considered just going to bed… as in, going to the room he had found and laying on the mattress for about six hours, afraid to close his eyes for the images he would find waiting for him.

           _Optimism… you're the resident optimist, remember?_ And so it was that he cleared his throat discreetly, took in a breath, and stepped resolutely forward, saying in query, "Mind if I join you, Mrs. Harker?"

           Mina's azure gaze lifted into his emerald one, and she replied, "Not at all." She hesitated, and then lowered her eyes, before raising them to the heavens once more, saying, "Although I may not be the most 'sparkling' of companions tonight, I'm afraid." Quietly, she added, "I think I might be… a little shocked."

           Tom chose that moment to lower onto the bench next to her, leaving a space between them, though he wasn't sure why. He had an almost instinctual urge to move closer, but something deep down inside kept him from doing so. He stayed at a slight distance. "To be honest," he began pensively, lifting his head to see what it was she found so distractingly fascinating, "I think we _all_ are. Up in my room… a little while ago, I…"

           This was going to be one of the hardest things he had ever admitted, but he just steeled his resolve, lowered his gaze, and forced out, "… I started shaking like a leaf." He glanced momentarily to her, to find her still staring upwards, her eyes filled with an unreadable light. "I just can't believe it."

           "Yes," she practically whispered, her voice light and airy, as if painful to use. "I was just looking at the _sky_…" She shook her beautiful head back and forth, a few locks of her auburn-tinted hair falling from their trappings as she sighed. "It just struck me that… well, that it won't ever be the same after this." She pulled in a breath. "It _can't_ be…"

           Tom's heart went out to her. He had _never_ seen her like this. The only time other than this, when he had ever seen fear in the vampire, had been on the Nautilus, when they had faced their deaths from the explosion and imminent pressure damage… they were nearly crushed and drowned. Other than that… he couldn't really remember anything, and it was a little daunting to be seated so close to someone so fearless… yet so consumed by terror.

           "I always thought of it as something that _sheltered_ humanity, but now…" She hesitated here, as if thinking her continuation over with great care and precision, as though it could cause damage if delivered incorrectly. "It frightens me, Agent Sawyer… it _frightens_ me."

           Tom shivered, though not from the cold. She had admitted it to him… Mina Harker had admitted a basic human, weak emotion, to Tom Sawyer… perhaps the least extraordinary of all the _Gentlemen_. He didn't know whether to feel awed, blessed… or intimidated. Perhaps a combination of all three would nicely cover his bases.

           He nodded at what she had said, sympathising with her for the most part, though not entirely understanding the magnitude of her own emotion. "It's like I said on the common… it all reminds me of a _dream_ I had once. I… I think _you_ were in it too." Glancing to her, he saw her head was no longer tilted upward, but angled in his direction. But she was not looking _at_ him… but _beyond_ him. He faltered for a moment, lost in the situation, before he heard the marching.

           Glancing in the direction it originated from, he could make out vague shapes approaching. "What _is_ that?" he asked Mina, looking to her briefly. 

           "They're coming from Horsell, I believe," she replied quietly, brow knitted, as she rose from the bench. Tom followed her lead, and the two strode in the general direction of the dirt road, well trodden, its condition only to improve in that area as a brigade of men came pacing in formation along it. They carried rifles at their left shoulders, and wore identical red and white uniforms, with helmets of black and burnished gold. 

           The army.

           "Ah," said a formal sounding gentleman from atop a proud chestnut horse, which held itself regally and with equine grace. "You must be the military intelligence folks we were told to expect." 

           Tom narrowed his eyes in confusion. He figured Bond had spoken to them. He hadn't expected them so soon.

           "Major Horatio Blimp at your service," the officer replied, and it was all Tom could do not to snicker at the name. 

           _Keep it bottled, Sawyer…_

           "This mob are from Inkerman barracks, sent to guard the common," Blimp continued, saluting briefly. Neither Mina nor Tom returned it, only regarded the man curiously as he continued, "Hear we've got a _hole_ there. Dashed big _mice_ around these parts, what?"

           Tom cringed at the extravagant accent, realising he had never really heard one so badly accentuated with exaggeration before. "It's not a mouse," he finally said, unable to hold back a comment for any longer, and he noticed Blimp looked immediately in his direction. He was surprised by Tom's voice and accent no doubt, and Tom flashed him a humourless grin. Blimp raised a brow suspiciously, and the American quickly decided he didn't like the soldier very much. His horse snorted and stamped a hoof, receiving a sharp tug on the thin reins to keep it content.

           Tom frowned slightly at the mistreatment, and heard Mina continue along the American's track, though with more care and discretion as to the explanation and correction, "The hole contains something far deadlier than a mouse. I wouldn't go near it. Are any _other_ troops expected?" She attempted to sound casual on the last note, but Tom – for one – could detect her gentle plead.

           "I should say so," Blimp replied pompously, his chin jutting out, his helmet strap appearing too tight all of a sudden with the jerky movement. He carried himself – even on horseback – in such an irritating manner, that Tom was tempted to yank the man from the saddle. "There's a company marching up through Chobham, to cover the common's north edge." Blimp regarded them somewhat thoughtfully for a moment, shifting in his seat. "Also, I gather that about now, the Cardiff regiment are setting out from Aldershot. They'll have maxim guns." He seemed comforted by this last fact, but Tom and Mina gazed at one another as if to say silently through a shared look 'the man is an idiot'. 

           "I see," Mina replied bluntly, with a lifting of one feminine brow, pulling on one lapel of her jacket for a moment. "Well, carry on, Major. I hope your resources are sufficient to the task, for your sake." She let all of the seriousness of the situation trickle into her tone along the sentence, and by the time she reached the last three words, it was heavy with foreboding. Blimp shifted in the saddle again, causing it to creak, even as his regiment marched forward again, in perfect formation and pace with one another, never batting an eyelid at the exchange and apparent dilemma. Mina brushed a nonexistent specimen from her jacket, meeting the officer's inquiring gaze once more, to add sinisterly, "For _all_ our sakes."

           "Don't you fret, ma'am."

           Glancing to Mina showed Tom that she was less than overjoyed with that reassurance, and he thought for a moment that a hint of red flickered into being, before being expertly concealed. He knew she despised being conceived as a typical woman of their era… weak, feeble and unaware of the times. Mina was anything but.

           "It'll all be over come Monday morning. Cheerio." And with that, Blimp gave a swift kick with the stirrups, sending the chestnut forward in an elegant trot to catch up with the marching procession. Tom and Mina looked on after them until they were just about out of sight, and definitely beyond earshot.

           "I have a terrible feeling," Tom muttered, "about those men." He glanced to his left, to his companion. Her gaze had not left the retreating regiment. "Most of them are going to die… aren't they?"

           Without confirming – though he knew she was internally – Mina sighed, and said, "Let's go back inside. It's turning rather chilly for the time of year… don't you think?"

           Something was disturbing her, he could tell. She wasn't one to comment on the weather. Silently, and stoically now, she turned with a tug on her jacket again, and headed back towards The Bleak House. Tom blinked slowly, frowned, and then followed.

*         *         *

           Nemo and Quatermain had scattered an unused box of matches across the tabletop in the corner, for blatant lack of playing cards, and were silently arranging them into preordained shapes. The hunter followed the scientist's lead, and the 'pirate' did not speak a word.

           The thief held a glass of scotch protectively in one gloved hand, staring out of the open doorway. The vampire held a glass of wine, for lack of anything more to her taste and well in control of her urges to anything other than the sensible thing. The spy was slumped into a chair in the corner, facing the ceiling, with a cat on his lap. It slept silently; tail flickering every few moments as if in a dream. Every now and then, he would run a palm subconsciously over its back. And the beast… Hyde stared out of the window, and showed no signs of immediate transformation. They were all inwardly concerned that the man that was normally Henry Jekyll was stuck somehow, unable to revert to his outwardly peaceful – if not nervous – shell of medicinal professionalism… instead of brutality and eagerness for violence.

           The clock ticked loudly, as Nemo started to move matches into letters, Quatermain slipping one in here and there, as if the two were playing at some cheap imitation of a jigsaw puzzle. 

           All this business was fascinating… if not entirely peculiar, and something Captain Nemo thought he would never – in all his years – experience or witness. He wasn't exactly thrilled about it, but he was interested in seeing what transpired so long as nothing devastating came of it… of course… it was already too late for that. The creatures – aliens as they seemed to be – had already mindlessly slaughtered a common filled with innocent people. He tried to convince himself that the fact they were British did not matter… and that he should still be terribly distressed by the murder. Something lingered in the back of his troubled mind, telling him that perhaps it was best to… cull the herd, as it were.

           "Snot with _arms._"

           Everyone immediately glanced in the direction of the owner with the gruff, harsh, rasping voice, seeing Hyde shift ever so slightly. "That's what they looked like."

           Nemo tilted a brow upward, and sighed indistinguishably. He was starting to feel rather awkward in the room with the rest of the _League_, and the heavy atmosphere.

           "All that buggering noise and clanging from the _common_," Hyde pressed on, irritated from the sound of his voice. "If I listen to much more, I'll _cripple_ something."

           Skinner looked nervously to the brute, and Tom regarded Nemo with a mild hint of concern. His eyes strayed to the Winchester nearby, and then the purring cat. Its tail lifted… and fell. 

           "I thought that racket was the army preparing," Quatermain commented, looking down at the word 'nine' spelt out on the wooden tabletop between him and Nemo. 

           "An _army_ perhaps," Nemo began, words laden with consideration, "but not _ours_."

           The weight of the words fell upon the collected _League_, and they took a moment to let their meaning sink in and take affect. They all remained quiet, as Nemo persisted, "England has no device that sounds like _that_ while under construction. Even _I_ have nothing that sounds like that."

           It was an awful noise, like a cacophony of pained instruments; working together to disturb anyone close by, twist their hearts into terrified masses in the chest cavities of humans who were so susceptible to such troubling emotions. 

           Mina turned, her wine glass in her hand, and asked, "Do you suppose the creature is _building_ something, then, Captain?" She stood, poised perfectly as always, and Nemo regarded one of the only women he had ever respected as an equal for intelligence, prowess and ingenuity. She truly was a remarkable individual, and not only because of her vampirism. 

           "I would think that very likely," he revealed. "In its position, I would no doubt be assembling some means of leaving the crater. If it-"

           "Great Christ and all his angels…"

           "Skinner?" Mina turned to regard the invisible thief, as he stood, glass lowered, in the doorway, staring with wide sockets for eyes. The _League_ all approached, notoriously curious. "What is it?"

           "Aheh," he began, shakily, nervously, "I really couldn't say. Best you look for yourselves." He indicated with a gloved finger out of the doorway, pointing to the sky… as a great golden, gleaming comet of fire rocketed overhead. They all pushed through the door, standing outside The Bleak House and gaping at the sight.

           "I… is that…?" Mina faltered.

           "It's another cylinder," Tom said, letting his disbelief flood his voice, glancing to the others.

           "It looks like it's falling towards _Woking_," Quatermain divulged, his tone flat and unusually emotionless.

           Hyde grunted, looming between them all, staring at the falling object. "Long way to come just to conquer _Woking_."

           "I fear," Nemo began heavily, "My. Hyde, that should any _more_ of these tin cans topple from the sky… then we may _all_ find ourselves on the losing side."

           No one saw Skinner drop his scotch glass, eyes fixed.

*         *         *

           By the hour of three, most everyone was in bed… not necessarily asleep, but thereabouts. Save for two members of the _League_. One being a vampire, and the other… she had yet to discover. She passed all of the bedrooms on the way, and glanced in to the gaping doorways. The first contained Allan Quatermain and Captain Nemo, who had taken the largest room, and used the twin beds to their advantage. Mina guessed it was so they could discuss tactics and the like, out of earshot, as they preferred.

           _Men…_

           The second was Rodney Skinner's, where she could make out the vague shape of a body under the blankets. She could not hear his breathing… but then, he _was_ a thief, so she supposed his stealth was second nature by now.

           Tom Sawyer was beyond that, sleeping restlessly, tossing and turning a little, here and there, with the same cat curled up at the foot of the bed, away from the shifting movement of the young American. She guessed he was having trouble sleeping, with the sight they had seen recently… and did not blame him. She couldn't have managed a wink of sleep, not even if she had actually tried.

           The final room she came across belonged to Henry Jekyll – no, Edward Hyde. Jekyll was… still absent, and this was concerning her. Perhaps the elixir had leaked into his blood stream, and infected his –

           "I know you're there."

           Mina started slightly, cursing her distraction, and glanced in the wanly lit doorway. 

           "I can smell you," Hyde continued, sitting stiffly on the end of the shallow bed, staring straight ahead with his hands pressed together in between his bent knees. "You couldn't sleep either, hmm?" With a gruff jerk of his head to one side, he continued, "You might as well come in. I'm not doing anything in particular."

           Mina hesitated, unsure as to whether or not this was such a good idea, and then threw caution to the wind, entering the opening, and the room of Edward Hyde. She knew it was rare for him to invite someone into his presence without being pressured to do so, and wondered whether Jekyll had inwardly pleaded for some company other than his – at the moment, dominant – alter ego.

           "Just for a moment, then," Mina acknowledged, and took a chair from against the wall. "I had thought it your custom to repel companionship?"

           Hyde grunted, narrowing his scheming eyes for a moment. "It's just the thieves and miscreants and _lunatics_ that _I _can't stand." A pause. Quieter now. "You're all right."

           Mina settled herself down unsurely, still curious as to how she would fare in combat with Hyde, but not eager to discover the answer for herself… at least not anytime soon. "I fear that you are somewhat harsh, sometimes, Mr. Hyde. What makes you think me any better… especially when you have _seen_ my demons?"

           "Call me Edward." Hyde sighed at length, never taking his eyes from the wall opposite as he said, "I don't know. Frankly, it confuses me and makes me furious with you." 

           Mina had positioned the chair directly in front of Edward Hyde, and watched him with intrigued curiousity.

           "Sometimes I think I should just… behead you." It seemed he had been going to add something before the mention of mutilation, and she was somewhat thankful for the lapse. "But a voice in me still fiercer than my own tells me if I did… that I must next take _my_ life." A narrowing of the ever-intelligent eyes showed his consideration of all this. "It's puzzling."

           Mina narrowed her own blue eyes, and looked up at the 'beast' with a newfound respect. He was much more than he seemed at first sight, and now that she had heard something of his thoughts, she was compelled to learn more.

           _Ever the scientist_, she thought subconsciously.

           "Perhaps it is that I would then have killed the only living thing that did not _fear_ me. Do you think that's it?"

           "You would be mistaken, sir," Mina corrected with a single shake of her head, keeping her voice flawlessly steady. "I do fear you… sometimes _very_ much."

           "Perhaps," Hyde acknowledged thoughtfully, his face darkening for a moment. "Perhaps you do. But not like all the others. I believe you do not _hate_ me. I believe you have perhaps – if not definitely – met someone… _worse_ than me." He met her gaze, and held it solidly. "Would that be right?"

           Mina's hand – of its own accord seemingly – found the puncture marks beneath her tall blouse collar, as she quietly released an affirming, "Yes."

           "I thought as much," Hyde said coldly. "Mrs. Harker… though I am a beast, do not think that I am _stupid_. I know that I am hideous and hateful. I am not loved, nor ever hope to be. Henry is quite in the same belief as I am, and we have that alone in common."

           Mina moved to interject, but Hyde swiftly pressed on.

           "Nor am I fool enough to think that what I feel… for you… is love."

           _Dear god…_

           "But in this world, alone, I do not hate you…" He stopped, and she thought she saw compassion in those normally hateful eyes. "… And alone, in this world, you do not hate me."

           He had laid his hand underneath hers, and she felt without realising all the little lines and scars that marred his flesh. Her eyes stared into his in shock at the revelation, and she did not know what to do with herself. Henry… she would have expected – and maybe that had been the doctor's influence – but Hyde…?

           "I… I would be grateful if you left me now," Hyde suddenly told her, and pulled his hand out from under hers. "Go quickly, before I break your jaw." His voice had descended into a rough grumble, and she soon heeded his plead, rising from her seat, and striding silently from the room. She did not close the door on her way out, for fear of what he might do if completely shut out.

           Once out in the corridor, she drew in as deep a breath as she could possibly manage, letting it out and feeling its unsteadiness. Blinking once… twice, she shook her head slowly back and forth, and pushed away from the wall, heading back to her room, ignoring the odd smell coming from Skinner's room as she passed it.

           In that there was none…

*         *         *

           Green smoke wafted on the horizon, and horses whinnied in terror in the far distance, as if gripped by the devil's hands himself, before the killing blow. Soldiers were yelling orders and questions to one another, but they fell on death ears.

           Well… invisible ears, anyway. Footsteps without visible origin landed in the disturbed dirt ground, pacing around the twisted skeletal remains of the poor souls from earlier the previous day, and silence followed in their wake. 

           Descending into the pit was the most hazardous part of the task, and once, he almost slipped, grapping a weak branch that snapped, but gathering his footing in time to avoid a nasty fall.

           "Shit."

           Pressing on, determined yet still anxious, he moved closer to the glowing canister that was the creature's vessel. Green light was ebbing from within, and off to one side he saw his target… _targets_ rather, in that there were two of the buggers now. They really were ugly specimens, and he grimaced, so very thankful that – despite their unearthly origins – they would not see the expression of disgust. No matter… he pressed on.

           "Aheheh… good evening." His voice permeated the eerie silence that dominated, and one of the two creatures made a low, guttural noise of displeasure at the intrusion. 

           "There, now, don't get _upset_," he told it, tutting and shaking his head. He crouched down to the dry, sandy ground, and ran a finger in a circle upon it, creating a sphere. "I'm going to draw you a _picture_." He spoke slowly, his accent accentuating certain words… but he spoke as if to a child, afraid that perhaps they would misunderstand and perceive him as a threat. 

           "There. Something even lumps of afterbirth like _you_ should understand." Upon the floor of the pit below him, between himself and the two aliens, he had drawn a collection of circles in a line. There were five altogether, and the one to the creatures' left was intended to represent the sun, being largest by far. The other four were similar, representing the first four planets in the solar system. Mercury. Venus. Earth. Mars.

           "See? There's the _sun_, then Mercury, Venus, Earth and _Mars_." Over the third circle from the sun, he drew a crude stickman. "Out of the _Earth_ come _us_ chaps." Above the fourth and final, a circle with tentacles. "Out of _Mars_ come _you_ chaps."

           _They had better be getting all this._

           "Now, here's _me_." He drew a second stickman. "I'm one of _us_ chaps."

           And then he wiped it away. "… But you can't _see_ me." He smiled, feeling he was making progress. "Aheheh."

           "Now, here's what _I_ think: you're going to give mankind a good dusting _down_." He traced his index finger in a harsh cross through the still-present stickman. "And you're going to _win_." He looked up at them, and was delighted to see that they were watching his every move, as though fascinated, like a dog with a bone waving before it enticingly. "Aheheh. With me so far?"

           Grinning, he pushed on, eager now, and excited. "You're going to rule the _Earth_." He drew another quick alien above the planet representing the one they stood on at that very moment. "Look! I've drawn a little afterbirth above the Earth, _ruling_ it." There was still a slight smudge where he had wiped his own picture away. "You see? Just there… next to _me._"

           His grin spread unbelievably wide across his invisible face as he took in the sight of the transfixed aliens he had managed to avoid his deaths from, even as more started to squirm onto the scene. 

           "You're going to rule the Earth next to _me_."


	4. Rendezvous

**Author's Notes: **Well, this was a speedy update, hmm? Not as long as the others, unfortunately, but it's just a bit of a filler. The next chapter will be – **_much_** – longer, and hopefully, shouldn't be too long in coming either.

**Nathan-Daystorm – ***pours you a glass of milk* I remember the Gullivar stuff now. That would have made **NO** sense in this fic, so it got cut entirely. I agree with you though, the Sorns were awesome! *watches you run amok* Aheh.

**Sethoz –** I'm so glad you're enjoying this *grins* Hehe, I love the matchsticks bit in the comic, so I had to include it. The cat! The cats were a whim. Hehehehe… yes… Skinner… mwahahaha!

**Lady Moon3 – **I'm glad you're liking it. I aim to please. Hehe, that's some funny review stuff. Thanks.

**TARilus – **Ah yes… hey, TAR. Glad you liked the Hyde, Mina and Tom bits. And as I told you about Skinner… *leaves it hanging _right_ there*

**Angharad – **Thanks! Yes he is! And I'm glad! And I have!

On with the show… here is part four of **_LXG2: Above & Beyond!_**

*         *         *

           The sound of shelling had awoken them, and they were stumbling out of the door to the inn before they had even realised the obvious absence of Edward Hyde… replaced by the definite form of Henry Jekyll once more, somewhat stunned and bashful as always. They made nothing of it, as ever, and glanced out in the direction of the common, surprised to find Skinner already arisen. Mina decided to ignore it, telling herself that it might have been his obvious hangover that had kept him from laying in until this hour… that wasn't all that late, being around eight o'clock. He was staring out in the direction of the booming that was cannon and artillery fire, and the rest of the _League_ came up beside and around him, in various stages of waking and dress. 

           They had their jackets in their hands, should they need to rush off for anything, and Quatermain and Sawyer had had the presence of mind to bring their guns out with them. The American's cap was askew on his head, and she cleared her throat, prompting him to snatch it off.

           All eyes were firmly fixed to the distance, through the trees, where they could make out sporadic flashes of firing from the weapons, and the sounds echoed around the common and its surrounding perimeter, reaching The Bleak House without hindrance.

           _I wonder why I slept so late_, Mina found herself wondering, before she saw a recognisable glint of green from where she estimated – from memory – the pit to be. Her heart froze in her chest, and her breath left her quickly as she registered the shape and size of the object and its glow. _Dear god… not again… all those men._

           The others seemed to notice it as well, regardless of the presence of supernatural senses or otherwise, and it was with a certain sense of hopelessness that they listened to the screaming and wailing, the screeching of horses, and the crackling of fire starting to blaze, seeing the glowing and blazing on the tree line. 

           "Dear god," Jekyll uttered, distraught, brown eyes wide with terror. "Those great black belches of smoke from the common… are those our _artillery_ positions?"

           No one replied, in the strictest sense, too dismayed to move or address the obvious question. The answer was staring the doctor in the face in the form of flickering flames reaching over the canopy of woodland.

           "But…" Quatermain shook his head, thick brow furrowed, "how could they pinpoint our guns so _accurately_? So _quickly_?"

           "I… I don't know. Perhaps…" Mina was at a loss for an answer, her voice breathless and barely audible. No one had looked away from the furious carnage as of yet.

           "Obviously they possess superhuman intelligence." Skinner shrugged, face grave. "Predicting such things would be _child's_ play for-"

           "_Damn_." 

           Everybody looked to Sawyer, whose head had turned back to the inn. They followed suit, and were stunned to see The Bleak House going up in flames that had eerily started whilst their backs were turned. Had the device set off the blaze? There seemed to be no other explanation, Mina realised, as the roof crackled merrily, tiles falling loose and shattering noisily against the ground. The two cats from the building skirted out of the window, wailing loudly and narrowly avoiding being ignited, fleeing into the nearby woods. Mina watched them for a moment, and then glanced back at the raging fire at the inn.

           "If we'd stayed in bed a moment longer…" she began, eyes slightly wider than normal. 

           Sawyer seemed equally perplexed and distressed at her side, saying, "But… I mean, that heat device. How can it possibly reach _this_ far? We're nowhere near the common!"

           Nemo glanced down the road to their right, even as Mina watched the words 'Fine Ales' vanish in the orange, red and yellow flames. "Someone approaches from the common," Nemo announced nonchalantly.

           As one, the confused and luckily spared _League_ turned to the road, the waves of heat from the fire coursing over them, causing their hair and clothes to play in layers around their faces and bodies. Mina only then registered that her locks were loose, flowing in tresses about her neck, shoulders and upper chest area. She had forgotten all about it. Nemo, of course, was correct. There was indeed a coach approaching from the direction of the common, and the thunder of two horses' hooves travelled to them, even as the definite shapes of the animals and their harnessed trailer came into view. A tall, rough, imposing – somewhat, at least – man sat in the driver's seat… one that she didn't recognise. He was wearing a formal driver's suit, with a tall hat and a polished badge upon it. His horses were large and proud, dark brown and black in colour, blinkered and harnessed in buffed leather, with creaking straps and clanking steel bits in their mouths. They snorted as the man tugged them to a halt, and they tossed their heads for a moment, before remaining obediently still.

           "Are you the Sawyer-Harker group?" the man asked in deep, scornful, pressing tones laced with urgency and impatience. He regarded them with dark, hurrying eyes.

           "I am Wilhelmina Harker, this is Thomas Sawyer, and these are our associates," Mina divulged with a nod. Sawyer shifted his weight on his feet, and watched the man inquisitively, scanning him from head to toe, as if trying to judge whether or not he was trustworthy. "You've come from Whitehall, I presume?"

           "Name's Smithson," he replied grimly. "I delivered the orders to open fire. I'd instructions to return you to London if things went badly." He indicated the carriage with a rough jerk of his head behind him, emphasising the need for haste, and the risk that delay could cause. All but Skinner clambered in. The thief looked up through his pince-nez, raising an eyebrow.

           "Are we to take it that's how things have gone then? Badly?" Skinner cocked his head.

           Smithson did not seem impressed, and even from inside the body of the carriage, between Sawyer and Quatermain; Mina could sense his irritation with the cocky thief.

           "Just get in the coach," he growled, and Skinner complied, taking his seat snugly next to Nemo and Jekyll. 

           With a crack of the whip, and a thrash of the reins, the coach was set into swift, paced motion, the drumming of the hooves rocking the carriage slightly. Mina could tell Nemo missed his Nautilus, and for once, she sympathised. She would much rather have been on the submersible right then, and she didn't doubt that all of the others were in agreement.

           For the rest of the journey, Mina forced her mind into blissful silence, blanking it out entirely, even as they passed the scene of the slaughter once more.

*         *         *

           Henry took the oppurtunity on the journey to mull over what had happened on the common for the transformation to take place. Edward had been in existence a lot longer than he should have been… and that worried the doctor, understandably. Hyde was normally only around for an hour at most, especially when exerting a lot of physical energy.

           Perhaps that was it… with the exception of the emotional outburst on the common, Hyde had not done much. And then he remembered the most drastic thing Hyde had recently done, and he had to fight to stop his eyes from widening to saucers. He had told Mina he loved her!

           _"I did, worm, and there is nothing to be done about it now. What's done is done."_ The wry chuckle reverberated, and Henry grimaced. The monster was right… Mina knew now – even if it was Hyde who told her, and not Henry himself, though he wasn't sure about his feelings and very rarely was – and there was nothing that could be done to reverse that.

           _"Good to see you can admit defeat."_

           Henry made a point of ignoring the mocking, and tried to focus on something – anything – else. Everyone else in the carriage was awkwardly and pensively silent, and it was starting to make him very nervous indeed… not that that was difficult in the circumstances. So he took to staring out of the window to his right as the coach rocked steadily backwards and forwards with the motion of the horses pulling it. They were passing through a town that – by the looks of the sign that could vaguely be made out – was called Maybury. People were up in arms, cramming luggage onto carts and into carriages left, right and centre, rushing about with children in their arms to try and escape the terror that loomed not far away.

           Glancing back to the grim expressions of the others… Henry almost wished he could join the fleeing civilians.

*         *         *

           When they got back to London, the news had already hit the papers, and was plastered through the city like it was the biggest thing to ever have happened… which it most definitely was. It wasn't exactly small news, and Tom was not surprised to find men shouting out the headlines with bundles of the tabloids in their arms, selling them here, there and everywhere.

           The Albion was less than welcoming to the collected _League_ when they had made a brief detour to the Nautilus to attire themselves in fresh, clean clothing. They rendezvoused with Mycroft Holmes and Campion Bond not long after that. Mina Harker had fixed her hair back into its bun, and he was almost sorry she had. It had looked intriguingly different and elegant when down. Shaking his head, Tom remembered there were more pressing matters at hand.

           Bond, for his part, looked more composed than they had last seen him. Tom wasn't sure what to think about that, and so ignored it as simple recovery. He was far enough away from the carnage to cast it aside for the moment, and Tom narrowed his eyes at that thought. Was Bond really that cold?

           "It's war then?"

           Tom looked to Holmes, who seemed indifferent, but severe in his delivery of the simple words. His eyes kept wandering back to the skeleton that loomed over them… it seemed gigantic, mountainous even, and Tom mused on its origin, or if it was even real at all. Raising a brow, Tom diverted his attention back to Mina and the situation.

           "Bloody difficult seeing what else it _could_ be," Quatermain grumbled cynically, and glanced around for a moment at the ageing paintings and artefacts that surrounded them.

           "I fear this is no idle _sortie_," Mina added icily, narrowing her cool blue orbs at Holmes warningly. "I fear that the word we are all avoiding is 'invasion'."

           Tom felt a cold finger trail up his spine at that word, and he tried not to give in to it.

           "We hear another cylinder landed in _Surrey_," Mina added, crossing her arms over her frame, impatient and irritated.

           "Mm." Holmes closed his eyes for a moment, as though not in the mood for the vampiress. Tom felt like punching the irritation right off the man's face, but refrained. "Byfleet golf links. We're shelling it now."

           With a dramatic wave of the hand before anyone could object to his attitude, Holmes persisted, "But please, no mention of _invasion_. The panic alone could kill hundreds. Whereas despite this _heat_ device, causalities will be limited. The creatures are evidently unable to leave their craters."

           Bond seemed to be shrinking behind Holmes, in the hopes that he would be overlooked. Tom agreed wholeheartedly with Mina's earlier comment about 'a vile coward' and tightened his fingers around the grips of his waist-holstered Colts. 

           "Aheh," Skinner chuckled humourlessly. "Good job. That would be dreadful. So, what are our plans?"

           "For the moment, you will _observe_ and remain _flexible_." Holmes rubbed at his tiepin, polishing it idly as he spoke. "Wait and see what these creatures will do _next_. Mr. Bond here has charts of our proposed artillery positions, with which you will familiarise yourselves. Mr. Bond?"

           The large man pulled something from within his ghastly jacket, and handed it to Mina, who held her hand out for it as if impatient to see the layout. Tom inched closer to her, almost guarding. 

           "Here." He released them to Mina. "Please don't let these leave the museum. They're highly secret."

           Mina rolled her eyes, and Tom threw Bond a reproachful glance that told him to push his luck; dare to push that train of thought. 

           "I scarcely think we require lessons on national security from you, or anyone, sir," Mina chided, and passed the plan to Tom firmly. He accepted them, tucking them away inside his long, black jacket for later consideration. 

           "Mr. Holmes," Jekyll began shakily, trying his hardest to keep his voice steady, and coming to settle somewhere comfortably in between, "might you be more detailed concerning our instructions?"

           "Of course, Doctor," Holmes replied aloofly, and Tom's good old instinct kicked back into action. His hands tightened even firmer around the grips of the pistols, and he had to remind himself that – though they were sturdy – they could be broken under pressure. He released his grip on them, and pocketed his hands instead.

           "You, madam," Holmes continued, looking to Mina, "and the young Agent, should study our _war_ plans, and learn what you can of our _enemy_. Read about _Mars_, for example." 

           _Well, if that wasn't obvious, I don't know **what** was…_

           "Some or all of your comrades should venture south of the river again on _reconnaissance._ Later, I may have more specific missions in mind for some of you. Let us see how things _develop_," Holmes finished, to which Quatermain bristled immediately, rising to the challenge as though he had been insulted.

           "What?" he snapped harshly. "You mean we have to go back to _Horsell_? I hope you're at least providing _transport_, Holmes."

           The large man had turned towards the window by this point, staring out over the industrial city that was London almost longingly. "Naturally," he responded in a neutral manner, and Tom narrowed his eyes at the discreet melancholy in the tone. "You'll have the same coach you _arrived _in. The driver, Mr. William Smithson Senior, is one of our best men. Distinguished himself fighting the _mad Mahdi_…"

           "Sir?" Mina was looking towards the large, full-wall window now, along with the others, Tom by her immediate side. "What are England's chances in _this_ conflict?" Her voice was rather quiet, and her eyes rather tender. 

           "As with the Mahdi uprisings, Mrs. Harker, we must remain _optimistic_." As Holmes said the last, emphasised word, Skinner and Bond looked in Tom's direction. He pretended not to notice. 

           "Hmm…" Holmes looked deep in thought, as if lost in his own memories. "Do you know… I believe it's coming on to _rain_. Not to worry."

           Tom furrowed his brow at the sudden distance in the voice, and wondered what had come over the man.

           "I doubt it will amount to much…"


	5. Snake In The Grass

**Author's Note:** Sorry about the extended update time, but everything came down on top of me and – you don't want to hear that, lol. Anyway, hope it wasn't too disappointing to have to wait this long. Tried to get it up as soon as possible, but this chapter needed… aheh, '_special_' attention, as you will see. It's a plot-turner, that's for sure, and remember to keep an open mind _::wink::_

**Angharad – **Glad you love it.

**Raven Silvers – **Oooh, I'm in trouble… _::builds a bunker::_

**TARilus – **Hehe, thanks. And about Skinner… ah yes… we shall see, won't we? We shall see. "I guess you'll find out, _won't _you?" might have been a better quote there I think.

**Lady Moon3 – **Henry's back! Yay! Don't get too attached, he might switch at any moment! He's a ticking time bomb of changing fury! _::blinks::_ Okay, _that_ was stupid. Well, gee, who _could_ give away weapon positions? And about Holmes and the annoying _italics_, in the comic, he emphasises a lot, and I thought it was an interesting – if irritating – habit to give him. He's just _so_ emphatic!

**Sethoz – **Thank you! Glad you thought it was cool. Lol… foreshadowing is fun. Bond and M _are_ animals, yes… all of them! Bwahaha! Okay, it's possible I've had too much of something. And yes, Sethoz, you can have some more.

Without further ado – and vehement apology for its lateness – here is Part 5 of **_LXG2: Above & Beyond!_**

* * *

            The storm had come into full being over London, and was raging ferociously, seemingly prepared to tear the rooftops from the buildings themselves, and drench anyone brave – or foolish – enough to step out into the downpour. Lightning flashed viciously, and thunder rumbled threateningly, as if in warning and foreboding. It was truly a miserable evening, the one in which a hot fireplace and a cup of hot cocoa made good companions.

            The Albion Museum was not a friendly place in low lighting, with its looming grim portraits, and eerie collections of odd, foreign objects that cast queer shadows and left everything to the imagination of the observer. The shadows themselves sometimes seemed to be alive, and twitched and jittered as if in anticipation of something either very exciting… or very terrifying. Either way, it was 'spooky' to say the least.

            Hat and coat in his hand and over his arm respectively, Allan Quatermain paced down one gloomy corridor, and came across the large study where Mina Harker and Tom Sawyer were seated at a table littered with plans, books and diagrams alike. They both had hot cups of either tea or coffee – likely in Sawyer's case – on the go, and the woman was wearing spectacles, strategically perched on her nose, her crystalline blue eyes perusing the text of a large volume of some kind. Sawyer was leaned back in his chair, one foot up on the desk, with a tome balanced against one knee, one hand holding it in place, the other drumming against the other leg out of boredom perhaps.

            Clearing his throat quietly, Allan announced carefully, "We're just going out then." For some reason, he was rather apprehensive. Could it be that the last great white hunter was afraid? No… impossible, surely. "Filthy bloody weather for it, I must say." After a moment, in which the two did not really move or respond, save for Sawyer drinking some of his beverage, Allan added, "You two will be all right here on your own?"

            Mina Harker's cool gaze lifted only momentarily, seemingly subconsciously, to throw him a scolding glare.

            "Hey, did you know Mars barely has any gravity in comparison to Earth? No wonder they could barely move…" Sawyer seemingly hadn't noticed the arrival of the hunter. Allan almost smiled, and saw Mina do so.

            "We're all right, Mr. Quatermain, thank you. You go on, or they'll leave without you." Mina removed her spectacles for a moment, and sipped her tea, as Sawyer flashed a smile in Allan's direction.

            "Right," Allan responded flatly, nodding. "We shouldn't be too long."

            The two mumbled their affirmations, and Allan went on his way, heading through the rest of the museum automatically, as if guided by memory alone, as his thoughts ran away with him. He had an odd feeling, he knew, even as he picked up his elephant gun – retrieved from the Nautilus, and Sawyer's cabin, where the young man had kept it – on his way. Popping his hat on his head, and slipping on the ankle length coat, Allan pushed out of the large front doors, carefully jogged down the shallow stone steps, and approached the coach awaiting him. Nemo and Jekyll awaited him, and Allan shouldered his coat closer to his body to keep out the dismal rain and chill, not to mention the wind.

            Allan greeted them with a nod. "I suppose it's off to face that blasted heat device again, then?"

            "So it would seem, Mr. Quatermain," Nemo acknowledged, and proceeded to climb into the carriage's open door with ease. Smithson was sitting on top of the driver's seat, reins and whip in his hands, no doubt numb from the cold. His collar was up, and his hat was low.

            "All I can hear is Hyde chattering about… 'playing' with the creatures," Jekyll told Allan as they edged closer to the coach.

            "There'll be none of that. I've got orders not to go within sightline of the crater."

            "Believe me, good sir, that is only too perfect for me," Jekyll assured him, and clambered into the carriage, with Allan behind him. Smithson gave a yell and a crack of the whip, flailing the reins in a controlled manner, even as Allan pulled the door shut behind him. He guessed Skinner was already in the carriage, from the way Nemo sat on one seat alone, to one side, near the window. Ever since the whole business had started, the thief had been… not quite himself, and Allan had made a point of letting the invisible man get over it in silence and with his own thoughts. He didn't want to disturb him, and so kept quiet.

            As they travelled, they passed many a protesting Londoner. More than a few were holding signs that proclaimed – in large, bold painted letters – a variety of different things. Some repeated the headlines from the newspapers, whilst others were a sharing of opinions. People seemed on the verge of evacuation as well, hauling luggage, baggage and parcels in all directions, despite the abysmal weather heaving all around them.

            Allan noticed, from looking out of the window as they travelled at a brisk pace, that the driver nearly mowed down several pedestrians. Furrowing his brow, Allan wondered why they weren't simply stepping out of the way of the large horses and the coach they pulled. Shrugging, he supposed they had other things on their minds.

            "I must confess," Nemo began mysteriously, "I admire the British people's bravery. With horror at their doorstep, they seem… unconcerned."

            Allan huffed quietly. "Hardly _unconcerned_. More _blinkered_, I'd have said." Narrowing his eyes, looking out the window as they passed away from the crowds and towards the outskirts further, he continued, "Pretending everything's tickety-boo, Nemo. It's the great British pastime."

            There was a silence for a long moment, and that was when the hunter thought he might as well continue along his train of thought, turning now to their driver, and just how blinkered _he_ seemed… very set to his duty, it appeared. "Holmes said Smithson was a Mahdi veteran, and that we should remain optimistic… as we did then." He was musing, aloud, and he knew the others understood this. They remained pensively silent, even as Allan added darkly, "… And we were massacred."

            They were passing through a somewhat deserted and rather messy little village now, where a tethered, withered dog was yapping incessantly, and newspaper scrapings flittered around randomly with the gusts of wind. The words the hunter had spoken weighed heavily on them, he knew, but he did not regret saying them… it was wise to remain informed and realistic. Of course, optimism had never seemed to harm Agent Sawyer, so it was probably beneficial to keep a hold of some of it nevertheless.

            Jekyll – surprisingly – was the one to break the silence, asking, "If we aren't to approach the common… then what are we _doing_ out here at all?"

            "Presumably," Nemo began in answer, "we are observing conditions here. The hamlet of Maybury for example is quite deserted."

            Allan did not hear Nemo's response in full however, as he had the absence of mind to stretch his legs out across the other side of the carriage… where they _should _have brushed against Skinner. He shuffled them a little… and then a little more.

            "Wait a minute," he uttered in dismay, leaning forward and patting the chair. "Where's _Skinner_?"

            Nemo regarded him calmly, knotting his hands before his face somewhat, as he offered, "I'd assumed he'd stayed at the museum. Holmes didn't specify that we should _all_ accompany the reconnaissance."

            "I…" Allan faltered, settling back into his chair, mistrustful all of a sudden. "I suppose not."

            "This storm's getting worse," Jekyll mumbled unsurely, staring out of the window with a semblance of fear in his wide eyes. "Let's hope Smithson's horses don't-"

            That was the exact moment that the entire coach pitched forward, as if from a sharp, sudden stop, and Jekyll was nearly thrown across the distance between the seats as the two older men were disturbed as well, uttering curses and surprised noises, before shoving out the side door.

            "Driver," Nemo growled, "what are you doing? You almost turned us over!"

            "That last _lightning _flash," Smithson replied with a distance in his tone, shading his eyes with a hand, from the rain, as he stared out towards the trees off in front of them. "I though I saw something!"

            "What's that noise, beneath the thunder?" Jekyll's entire posture announced his undercurrent of terror, and a slight tremor disrupted his demeanour. "It's almost as if…"

            It seemed Jekyll was never destined to finish that sentence, as something shattered the atmosphere that hung heavily in the air around them, towering into view with a crash of lightning and a boom of thunder. Tearing out _through_ the trees, making a very obvious gap for itself, was an… it was like nothing they had ever seen, especially Allan Quatermain, who almost dropped his rifle at the sight.

            It was supported on three gigantic metal legs, like great spines, digging into the ground all around it, holding up a mountainous mass of a hulking body, like that of the diagrams of tanks Allan and Nemo had looked over during their first mission. It was gleaming with the moisture from the rain, and a green glowing portal showed in the front face of the massively wide, spiked head of the three-legged device, obviously of alien origin and design. Tentacles – as if from the giant squid Nemo had once spoken of – wriggled out from both sides, and underneath. The ones on the left and right had torn trees from their roots, and toppled them to make a passage wide enough for the body of the thing.

            The three men stared in horror and dismay, mouths dropped in terror, as they regarded the machine.

            "God…" was Jekyll's less than eloquent assessment, and he appeared out of breath, as though his lungs had completely failed him.

            "Back!" Smithson bellowed, trying to calm the rearing, panicking horses. "Get back in the coach!"

            "It's… it's almost like a milking-stool," Allan mumbled, half-turning back to the coach, even as Nemo climbed in, as if transfixed by the horrible sight.

            "Just get _in_!" Smithson urged desperately, grim face twisted into a savage expression. "We have to get word back to London!" Within moments of Allan stepping up into the coach after Jekyll, the whip slashed across the hides of the horses, and they surged back towards the city, leaving the monstrous creation looming behind them.

            Foolishly, as they raced hastily back to London, Allan wondered if things could get any worse…

* * *

            With the vampiress having gone out to feed, and the storm grown into a full rage over London, Tom Sawyer was left with his thoughts and individual research. So far, he hadn't learnt much, other than the temperature of Mars all year round, its rotation around the sun in comparison to that of Earth, and a few tiny speculations given life on the planet itself. Not very useful, needless to say. He was starting to become fed up, and he sighed heavily, closing the heavy book he had been staring at for the last half hour, the same words from the same page burned into his memory, destined to still be forgotten come morning.

            Wiping his hands over his face roughly for a minute, proceeding to drag his fingers through his hair, he yawned a little, and stood from the table, feeling the burning need to stretch his legs lest they up and stopped working on him altogether… which would have been embarrassing, not to mention an annoyance. Moths flickered around the lamp he was using to illuminate the table, and he watched them flutter eerily for a moment, before a great flash of lightning succeeded in illuminating the entire sky, flaring in white light through the window and nearly blinding him. He squinted, remembering the storm he had witnessed that time back on Jackson's Island as a child, and breathed out a sigh of relief when nothing loomed out of the window.

            Stretching his arms up a little with a light groan, he moved around the room, taking in the oddities that littered the walls, and glass cabinets dotted around sporadically in the vicinity. They were filled with bizarre items, such as masks, pages from ancient volumes, and… some things were unidentifiable.

            Boredom settled in, and loathed to settle back into the books for the time being, Tom took to wandering the corridors, hands free of his pockets for a while, before habit struck him, and they settled in of their own accord. Most of the rooms in the museum were dark, locked away for the night, or under renovation. He sighed quietly, and then hesitated when he passed a shadowy room. Narrowing his eyes, he turned his head to regard what had caught his attention… and furrowed his brow. A leather trench coat and a black trilby sat on a chair, complete with leather gloves and pince-nez.

            Tom simply stood, regarding the items for a long time, as though trying to contemplate their placement and reason for even being there at all. Hadn't Skinner gone with Quatermain and the others? Or had he chosen to go in stealth? Perhaps that was the case, and Tom was simply choosing to make something out of nothing. Shrugging slightly, he moved _through_ the room holding the items, to a lit doorway on the other side, pushing it very slightly with his left hand, pulling them from his pockets slowly. He looked into the room; green eyes taking in the sight of a floating map… the plans to London's artillery positions.

            "Skinner?" Tom pushed the door open all the way, wondering what it was that the invisible thief was doing, and why he wasn't with the others. It wasn't possible that they had come back without Tom knowing. He would know… wouldn't he? What if Skinner hadn't _gone_ with the others? But that didn't make any sense… why _wouldn't_ he have gone? And if that was the case, then why hadn't he announced his presence. Tom tensed without realising, suddenly a little apprehensive and doubtful as to Skinner's motives.

            The map faltered slightly, and dropped lightly to the tabletop, rolling closed a little way at the curled edges, coming to a stop, the room falling silent all of a sudden… unsettlingly so.

            Tom could hear nothing, and was disturbed by the fact. Why was the thief acting so strangely? He knew Skinner was here somewhere; he hadn't felt anything brush past him… but just _where_ was he?

            "Skinner?" he tried again, stepping into the room a little more, even as the door creaked ominously, sending his heart into a quicker pace, uncomfortably. He tried to tell himself not to be nervous… after all, what reason was there to be apprehensive? This was Skinner, the man who had saved his life in Mongolia. But then again… "Skinner, what are you doing? I _know_ you're here…"

            Letting his eyes cast over the entire room, he attempted to identify signs of where the invisible man was. There was nothing… not a sound, not a movement. Until something about the area next to Tom changed subtlely, and given his training, the American recognised that fact. He turned his head… and was met by a blow to the face that sent him to his knees in a daze, gasping from the shock. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the slight flow of blood from his nose, and then heard the quiet chuckle from behind him.

            "Aheheh… stupid Yank."

            The cockney accent threw him for a minute, before he remembered what was going on, and reached a hand for one of his Colt pistols in its holster. Something grabbed him at the scruff of the shirt and the left shoulder, and tore him backwards.

            He was slammed against the wall, having been pulled to his feet, and he gave a sharp yell, reaching out and grabbing something – or someone – solid. Skinner. He inhaled quickly, and said, "What the hell are you doing?"

            A knee connected with his stomach as he was pulled forward and down, and he felt the wind knocked completely out of him, before the hand twisted in the back of his shirt again. The other hand pulled the Colt pistols from the holsters, and threw them aside. Tom vaguely heard them clatter to the ground, shortly before a startling amount of strength was used to throw _him_. He was practically lifted from the ground, and sent a short way across the room, _through_ a display case that had held some old sheets of some valuable document. Tom crashed to the floor, rolled a little, and stopped, trying to push off from the ground, gasping and wincing, gritting his teeth as he heard a slight crunch of glass as Skinner came towards him.

            Using all the speed and agility he could manage through the confusion and shock, Tom twisted his body, and rammed a fist up and forwards, feeling it slam into something, which promptly had the air rammed out of it. A backhand across the face was what he received for his trouble, and then hands in the front of his shirt and waistcoat, yanking him around, and ploughing him backwards. The backs of his legs connected with the table that had housed the shattered cabinet, and he was forced down onto it.

            He gave a yell when something cut into his back and right arm, and hissed through clenched teeth, shortly before one of the invisible hands wrapped around his neck, pushing his head back at an angle. Tom closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, feeling the pressure around his throat, and trying not to show he was having difficulty in breathing. The light laugh sounded again, even as the voice broke the now-lingering silence, "Always got to stick your nose in, haven't you? Ever think that you might lose somethin' if you keep doin' that?"

            "Why are you doing this?" Tom rasped, opening his eyes a little, realising shortly afterwards that it would do him no good to look at Skinner anyway… he couldn't _see_ the man. One of Tom's own hands was gripping around the wrist of the choking hand, the other up on the shoulder of Skinner, trying to push away and hurt him at the same time, seemingly to no avail. He tried to keep the blood from trickling from his nose, but knew it to be pointless.

            The voice sounded beside his ear next, and Tom tried to move his head away, slightly chilled by the icy edge to the words, "Why _not_?"

            "The _League_-" Tom managed before the fingers tightened awkwardly around his throat, and he choked for a moment, silenced by his attacker, who was using one knee to pin the American's lower body.

            "Yes, the bloody _League_… what about them? They'll be angry? They'll ask questions? They'll come after me?" With each accentuated question, an application around his throat made Tom wince and even whimper slightly, screwing his eyes closed tighter and tighter every time, perhaps in the hope that he would wake up soon; that this was all some odd nightmare.

            "Especially since I've just attacked Quatermain's precious protégé," Skinner teased, still speaking right into Tom's ear, shortly before he kissed the American on the cheek suddenly.

            Tom put up a fight then, thrashing to try and get the invisible man off, succeeding in getting enough of his left leg free in order to ram it into Skinner… and a very sensitive area that sent the thief reeling with a yowl.

            Tom practically fell from the table, glass tinkling as it landed on the floor, scattering madly in all directions, and he scrambled for purchase, intending to either flee the room altogether, or to grab one of his guns from wherever it had landed.

            "You good for nothin' _brat_," snarled the voice from behind him, and for lack of anything else to do, Tom rolled over onto his back, and kicked out with both feet, clipping the intangible figure in the side and knocking him off balance. The table wobbled as something rocked against it, and an audible growl sounded, furious and intent.

            Something lunged at Tom, and barrelled into him, throwing him over, and the two of them rolled across the floor, something that had to appear very odd should someone happen upon the scene at that moment in time. They grabbed at each other, before Tom was knocked away, winded again. He gave a low noise, like a gasp and a groan bled together, and rolled onto his front, using his hands to weakly hold him up, panting from the rather one-sided fight. He had managed to defeat Sanderson Reed in Mongolia, but here… it was entirely different, though he wasn't sure why.

            Fingers twined in the back of his hair and ripped it backwards. Tom gave a cry, even as Skinner grabbed the hand that came up to fight for his freedom, wrenching it around and behind him, twisting the wrist enough so that he wouldn't fight too much.

            The voice was in his ear again, broken by rapid breaths that signified the tiring of his opponent, as he said, "There are sides in every war, brat… you just need to know which one to pick. I've sided with the _winners_… you're stuck with the _losers_. You're just a pathetic, stubborn Yank." He chuckled wickedly down the side of Tom's face, and the American tried to struggle, earning a tightening in both his hair and around his wrist. He grimaced. "What are you? Huh? What _are _you?"

            Tom's brow furrowed in anger and confusion as he tried to decipher the meaning behind the growled words, moments before he was rammed forwards and down. He tried to stop himself… only to be yanked to a sudden stop, a mere inch from crashing skull first into the ground. He set his jaw, grimly, determined not to give in to whatever it was that was wanted of him.

            "I said _what are you_? _Say_ it!" The tightening became apparent again, and Tom winced heavily, giving a light gasp, as realisation kicked in. He knew what Skinner wanted, though he far from understood it at all.

            "No…"

            He was torn backwards again, his head pulled right back, so far that he could barely breathe. If he had opened his eyes, he would have been staring up at the very ceiling as the voice hissed at him again, "_Say it_!"

            When Tom blatantly refused again, this time by remaining stoically silent, both hands released him. Tom's head went forward immediately, especially when a foot collided with his stomach, winding him again. He could barely breath, and one hand went to the floor to steady himself; prevent him from collapsing completely. The other wrapped around his stomach protectively.

            Something heavy landed on his back, driving him to the ground, and he gave a small yelp, a hand instinctively covering his head to block out blows made towards it. Nothing came, and something like a knee pressed down on his back painfully, as a hand ran through the dishevelled blonde locks at the side of his head. Here and there, they caught a knot, but did not stop, only tore through them, causing Tom's eyes to sting and water. He hissed, and the arm covering his head protectively was torn away. Skinner's other hand now played near Tom's jaw, as though ready to grip the throat at any minute and strangle.

            Slowly and purposefully, emphasising every word, Skinner snarled out, "What. Are You?"

            Tom closed his eyes tightly for a moment, trying to think of something – anything – else he could do, before he realised that the other man had him completely pinned, and subsequently at his mercy. A shifting of the knee pressed into his back painfully prompted him into saying, "I'm a pathetic… stubborn Yank." He _had_ to close his eyes after saying that, disappointed with himself and feeling weak all of a sudden.

            "Again."

            Gritting his teeth, and forcing the words out that way, Tom repeated, "I'm a pathetic, stubborn Yank…"

            The pressure lifted from him all at once, the hand drifting from his jaw and throat, carried away with the rest of the invisible body. Tom panted heavily, exhausted and sore after the struggle, and half-lifted himself from the ground, shaking a little, with a bloody nose, and slight tears in his eyes, pained and angry.

            "That's right," said the quiet voice, before a rattling of metal sounded from above the defeated American. Tom's eyes lifted almost regretfully, moments before the grip of a Colt pistol connected with the side of his head and drove him back to the ground, and into comforting, blissful darkness.

            The last thing he heard before abandoning consciousness was, "Aheheh. Now… where was I?"


	6. Haunting Me

**Author's Note: **Well, certainly took me long enough. I've given up apologising, cuz you all know I'm sorry anyway, and I've run out of excuses _::shrug::_ Sorry bout that  .O  I'll try and speed it up a little, especially since BTLOTM is finished now… feels weird to say that. _::comes out from bunker::_

**TARilus:** Yup, Skinner. Attacking. Sawyer in pain… in one of _my_ stories?  O.O Is it possible? Hehehehe. Maybe he did go insane, but you shall have to see, won't you?

**Angharad:** Nope, they are not going to be happy. Hehehehe… might be a little disagreeable on Mars. There has to be some reason they left, right?  .

**Tatsu:** I am an evil author, and you know it. Not only do you know, but some of you must like it, because you keep coming back, hehe. And no… I'm not ashamed _::points to comic book::_ I'm just following the story, people!  .

**Anacalagon:** Yes. Yes I did. No you won't. Thank you. And yes.

**Raven Silvers:** Yes… yes it is. You can't believe it? Maybe you should read this instalment quickly to set your mind at rest, 'eh? . Kill me? Why do people want to kill me? _::sad face::_

**Sethoz:** Thanks, buddy! We all know Tom isn't a stupid Yank, but the invisible man obviously seems to think so. Sigh… ain't life a… I would put the little stars in there to block out the swearing, but ff.net would take them out  . Silly thing. You get the drift. Katsup? Why the sudden fascination with Katsup?

**LotRseer3350:** He has indeed, hasn't he? At least, it seems like it. Not telling you anything spoiler-wise as usual  .  Aren't I mean?

**Leigh S. Durron:** Hehe, classic reaction. Ack! Not Sting! O.O Hehe, glad you liked it though.

**Lady Moon3:** Doink? What is 'doink'? 'Pretty much' doesn't quite cover it, but I think it's safe to say that Tom won't be telling the others that happened now, will he? Hehe, you have to tell me what doink means though.  .

**SilverEagle:JessieWest: **My god… I don't think I've ever seen quite such an unexpected reaction that made me smile before. Classic… loved it. And no need to beg, dear reader, here it is.

**Drakena the Destroyer:** Yes, poor Tom. Hyde _and_ Mina? Jeez, Skinner, run for your life _now_, before you get pulverised _and_ vamperised! Had to be done, regarding Hyde. It was such beautiful dialogue in the comic, that it just couldn't be wasted and cast aside. Everybody (male) loves Mina! . _::sarcastically::_ Poor Mina…

Anyway, without further ado, here is Part 6 to **_LXG2: Above & Beyond!_**

* * *

            Mr. Thomas Marvel regarded the weapon in his hands, looking down on the prone figure of Agent Tom Sawyer – annoying that they shared a name – and quirked his eyebrows thoughtfully. Playfully, he cocked back the hammer on the pistol, and aimed it down at the unconscious young Yank, taking a deep, pensive breath, the barrel pointed directly at the side of the skull.

            Sighing, he pushed the hammer forward again, and lowered the weapon, tossing it down with a clatter beside the boy's body. "Too easy," he grumbled to himself, and turned his head – invisible as it was, thanks to one careless Dr. Hawley Griffin – back to the plans that he had dropped to the table. It was bad enough that he had been interrupted during his sabotage and 'treachery', but… he couldn't say he hadn't enjoyed beating on the annoying brat. He couldn't understand how anyone could tolerate the little bastard.

            Rolling his eyes, he thought back, wondering why the _League of Extraordinary Gentlemen_ had not realised their 'shadow' long before this. With vampiric senses on their side, it should have been much quicker… or actually a reality. He was still getting away with it, and he revelled in the gleeful fact that the thief would get the blame. He chuckled, a dry, sarcastic sound of mirth as he rolled up the plans in one hand, and gripped them tightly, almost afraid to let go. He glanced left and right, rather intoxicated with the idea of the faces of the _League_ when they got back and saw Sawyer in this state… oh he wished he could stick around to see it.

            "But duty calls," he whispered to himself with mock distress, giggling for a moment afterwards as he moved out of the room. He threw one last glance back at the motionless form, and said, "So long, Yank… don't die too quickly. It would be a shame if you didn't _suffer_." Grinning maniacally, Marvel pushed down the corridor, on his way to clothing, and a swift, victorious exit.

* * *

            Rodney Skinner stood concealed in the shadows in the corner of the room, horrified and at a loss. What the _hell_ was he going to do _now_? He couldn't just pop back up again and declare his innocence… they wouldn't bloody believe him anyway. They never did. He was the sneaky thief, after all, with stealth and dishonesty.

            He had 'felt a presence' back at the inn, on that night, and had been deeply troubled by it, slinking back into old habits by ducking out of the building for a while to have a quick cigarette, something he had long ago tried to completely quit… without much success. It was a little after that that he had seen 'solid' evidence… he cursed his hesitation in mentioning it to the others now, even as he tried to tear his eyes away from the defeated form of Sawyer, as he lay on the ground, still.

            Instead of simply looking away, he moved over, and crouched down, disturbing the collar of the white shirt to check for the pulse that he hoped with all his being was there… relieved to feel the beat beneath the skin on his neck. Skinner actually let out a sigh. He couldn't believe what he had just seen. He had only come in here to see what the slippery weasel was up to _now_, having tailed him for a few hours, through the museum rather successfully, given their shared 'disposition'. That was why he had chosen not to accompany the other men – bar Sawyer – on their little reconnaissance. Someone had to keep an eye on the pest… lot of good it had done, anyway. He felt a little useless, and stupid, for not helping when the American had needed it. _Now_ look at the poor kid. He probably thought Skinner had lost his mind, and gone crazy to save his own skin.

            Wincing, Skinner stood, looking down at the young man still, before literally tearing his eyes away, glaring at the door where the figure had retreated, jaw set grimly, and shoulders squared defiantly.

            He would clear his name… no matter the consequences. He would _not_ be the traitor.

            Not again…

* * *

            The horses wailed in discomfort as Smithson tore back their mouths, the bits being yanked by the reins attached, the scarred and weathered hands gripped tightly to avoid slipping on the leather as the rain continued, though lighter now. Thunder rumbled, looming and threatening still. The carriage splashed to a halt in front of the Albion, the horses wheezing and heaving from the pace they had been forced to exert on the way back, even as the coach they pulled rocked slightly. The three men of the _League_ started to climb out, pulling their jackets around them, and still shocked after what they had seen.

            Jekyll, Nemo and Quatermain were eager to get out of the rain, and tell the others – others being Mina, Skinner and Sawyer – what they had seen, and what it could possibly mean, but as they headed towards the steps leading up to the museum, they conversed.

            "Right, you lot, I'll carry on over to Vauxhall and report to M," Smithson called to them, even as he started to prepare himself to start off again, despite the lethargy the horses were displaying. "He'll probably want fetching back here to the museum. No doubt I'll see you later." And with that, he cracked his whip and thrashed his reins… and darted off once more, nothing save for a dark shape signifying his coach as he departed.

            "What a _nightmare_," Quatermain grumbled as he tugged at the lapels of his jacket, his elephant gun in one hand. "That bloody milking stool thing… we're all in the most god awful trouble now, if we can't figure out a defence." He sounded more annoyed by this than anything else.

            "Let us get inside, out of this rain," Nemo surmised, trying to remain indifferent, even as Jekyll started up the steps leading to the grand doors. Quatermain and Nemo were right behind him, eager to get out of the downpour and the storm, which seemed to be receding, though it still lingered, as though hesitant to leave the skies over London.

            But as they were about to reach the doors, there was a strange fluttering of cloth – and wings? – from behind them, causing them to turn in unison, coming face to face with a rather damp and feral Mina Harker. She regarded them with crystalline blue eyes.

            "You have returned already?" she inquired, puzzled, rain running down her flawless features like small, sorrowful rivers.

            "Yes," Quatermain replied, furrowing his brow at the realisation that the vampire had left the American alone in the museum… before recalling the fact that Skinner had stayed behind. "We encountered something… unexpected, but we shall explain when we regroup."

            Nemo nodded, and Jekyll turned back to the doors, positively dripping from the rain. They entered the museum, chilled and soaked to the bone, and all puzzled out that Mina Harker had taken a break to feed, probably, seeing as how it was needed from time to time in order to quell the beast inside of her. The last thing they wanted or needed was to come back and find she'd drained Skinner or Sawyer of their blood. That would – needless to say – set them back quite a bit.

            Mina pushed the doors closed behind her, and made her way toward the stairs at once, eager to check up on the spy she had left sitting on his own up in the library. As she made her way up the stairs slowly, progressively, and unwilling to slip in her heels, she listened to the conversation taking place below her between the men present.

            "You saw how _fast_ it moved, bowling across the horizon," Quatermain was mumbling thoughtfully. "A machine like that, it might even be too much for the _army_."

            "You realise there may be a second such device at Byfleet?" Nemo suggested darkly, and Mina could literally taste the reluctance from the others.

            "Oh god," Quatermain mumbled. "That Surrey golf links, where the _second_ cylinder landed. I'd forgotten that. _Two _of them. And we thought they couldn't leave the crater."

            "No," Nemo interjected bluntly. "That is what the _English_ assumed. I thought otherwise…"

            "Yes, you said they'd be building some sort of vehicle," Quatermain agreed after a moment.

            Jekyll put in his thoughts here, rather timidly, "While we were all hoping for the best, you were expecting the _worst_."

            "It is as you stated. To hope for the best is an English failing…"

            The voices started to trickle away from Mina's perspective here, though she caught the edges of something about Mombai and Calcutta. She ignored it, having no idea what they were talking about, and – even as she dripped water everywhere – she made her way back towards the library, where she had left Tom Sawyer. She hoped he hadn't gotten too bored or restless in her absence.

            She crossed through to the library, seeing the abandoned books, and furrowed her neat brow slightly, glancing left and right, before letting her senses come into play. Wait… there was something she did _not_ like in the air, and it disturbed her. Was that…

            Was that blood?

            Mina's heart went into overdrive, thankful that she had just fed, or she might have found the scent far too tempting to resist. She followed it, passing a chair that smelt loosely of leather, though it was made of cloth, and came across a doorway that was slightly ajar.

            When she pushed on it, and glanced in with her blue eyes, her breath caught in her throat, and she surged forward, dropping to her knees at once, touching a hand to the face of Tom Sawyer, relieved at the warmth she felt there, and ignoring the fact that it was a little _too_ warm. He looked awful; blood running down one side of his face and temple, and from his nose, as though he had been in a fight… and come out the loser. Glancing around, she saw the signs of the struggle, with dislodged items here and there, and shattered glass all over the floor. When she glanced back at Sawyer, she saw the slight cuts on one arm, and a few signs along his back. She felt immediately for a pulse, regardless of the fact that she could _hear_ his heartbeat. He was alive, just unconscious.

            Snapping back into reality, she called out as loudly as she could, "Quatermain! Nemo, Jekyll! Come here! Come here _now_, damn you!" A slight growl had slipped into her voice as a scent other than the blood and the smell of Sawyer had clarified itself in her mind.

            Skinner…

            There was the sound of rushing footsteps, though not running, and not long after, Quatermain pushed into the room; "What is it? We were… oh, god." He came forward at once, even as Mina carefully rolled Tom over onto his back, showing the extent of the blood on his face. Whoever had hit him – and if she paid attention to her senses, it was Skinner – had certainly not taken the matter lightly.

            "Skinner… his smell. He was here. Jekyll, help him," Mina said quickly, not sure why she was reacting so irrationally. Jekyll pushed past the stunned Nemo, and dropped down beside the vampire, touching a hand to Sawyer's neck to check for the pulse, before fumbling a little.

            "The plans detailing London's gun positions are gone," Nemo pointed out gravely. "I do not understand what has happened here."

            "Forget about that, Nemo," Mina snapped abruptly. "We can worry about that later."

            "Come on, let's get him downstairs," Quatermain said, and positioned himself accordingly, before adding, "I can carry him."

            "Are you sure Mr. Quatermain?" Jekyll inquired, earning himself a chiding glare. Then he nodded. "Very well. He doesn't appear to be too badly injured."

            Carefully, Quatermain hefted Sawyer off the floor, laying him gently but securely over one shoulder with only a little difficulty. He stood to his full height, and turned towards the door, the young man held safely in place, still unaware. Mina looked at him, the way the blood had matted the hair close to the wound, and the slight bruise around it, and along his jaw. She couldn't help the second growl, as she propped herself up on her haunches, running her fingers through her wet, loose hair. She felt responsible… she never should have left. If only she had stayed, she could have –

            "Mrs. Harker? Are you… are you all right?" Jekyll's quiet, timid voice broke her from her musings, and she pulled her fingers from her tresses, staring at the polished shoes of the doctor.

            "I'm fine. See to Sawyer."

            She let the others leave, and then picked up the pistol in her hand, eyeing it oddly for a moment, before resisting the overwhelming urge to break something... something in the form of the invisible thief. Oh, she wished the coward were here now.

            How she wished...

* * *

            It was with reluctance that he finally pushed the darkness away from him, and allowed his consciousness to return to him, slowly, piece by piece. He groaned quietly, shifting slightly on whatever he was laying on – which he assumed to be some sort of annoyingly rigid bed – and forced his eyes to gradually open.

            His head throbbed powerfully, and he raised a hand at once, wincing and hissing through his teeth as he moved to sit up. A hand touched against his shoulder, firmly but carefully pushing him back down.

            "Give yourself a moment to regain your bearings," came the tender, soothing voice of Mina Harker. Tom looked in her direction, pained by the wan lamplight that illuminated the room. He placed it as some sort of temporary living quarters, perhaps a cleaner, from the smell, and sighed heavily.

            "What happened?" he asked quietly, mostly in a mumble as he touched his head again tentatively, remembering the blow he had been dealt before losing consciousness. It all started to flow back to him, and then he realised he was sore in more than one place. His back, stomach, left arm, and left side of his face and head ached irritably, but he knew it would all recede, as it always did. In his line of work, he had forced himself to get used to all of this sort of thing, knowing it all just… faded away eventually.

            "We found you… _I_ found you, unconscious in the room where we had left the plans. Someone had attacked you. I was hoping to ask _you_ what happened. Here," she said, bringing a damp, cold, folded cloth over to him, and touching it to the side of his head for him, carefully but firmly. He winced for a moment, and then lifted his own hand to support the cooling fabric. His hand brushed hers, before she took it away, and their eyes met. The pain was already starting to lessen, thankfully.

            "I think… no, it was Skinner." Tom's heart was heavy with that news, and the recollection of the fight as it flooded back to him in painful clarity. He didn't want it to be true, but he knew in his heart and mind that it was, no matter how hard he tried to deny it to himself. "I saw him looking over the plans… and then he just attacked me."

            Mina looked grave… and angry. Tom frowned, and slowly sat up, pulling the cloth from his head carefully, finding that he wasn't bleeding as he thought he might have been.

            "Here," Mina offered, and took the cloth from him, gently turning his head using one hand to cup his chin. He let her do so, looking her in the face, though she avoided eye contact with him, and she used the cloth to clear away the rest of the blood that was obviously still on his head, given that she brought it away stained. "When we find Mr. Skinner, we will ask him for his reasoning. I fear… I fear he has aligned himself with the enemy. There is no other reason as to why he would steal the plans."

            "He stole the plans?" Tom's stomach took a new turn, and he didn't like the feeling one bit. It made him feel nauseous, and he grimaced. "Damn… why would he do this?"

            Mina said nothing, only sighed with a very delicate shrug, before the sound of a door closing drifted to the room they were in. She handed him a mug of something hot that he assumed to be tea, given the lack of the coffee smell to it, and prompted him to rise. "Mr. Holmes appears to have arrived. Quatermain and the others have news for us, it would seem."

            "News?" Tom furrowed his brow, and frowned a little more, his headache more than grating. "Why don't I like the sound of this?"

* * *

            The room in which the _League_ now sat or stood, along with Mycroft Holmes and Smithson, was rather gloomy and foreboding, though the rain seemed to have eased up outside somewhat. There were no artefacts in this room, only a pair of old, rather dusty sofas, and a few lamps to illuminate wanly. Only one of the sofas was being used, by Sawyer, flanked on either side rather protectively by Quatermain and Mina Harker. The young man held a mug of something in his hands, but he didn't appear interested in the slightest in drinking any of it now, lost in a reverie.

            Mycroft looked over near to the window, where Jekyll was staring out into the darkness, and Nemo had placed himself behind the sofa, almost like a guard. Were they really so paranoid that they thought another attack on the boy might be attempted whilst they were all present? Surely no one could be _that_ stealthy… or stupid.

            Shrugging it off, Mycroft cleared his throat quietly, hoping to stir some sort of response from _someone_. They had already discussed the presence of the rather peculiar tripod item, which Smithson had already informed him of on the journey over from Vauxhall. It was a bizarre turn of events, that was certain, but Mycroft already had a plan twisting in his mind, aided by his associates in the Empire.

            The _League of Extraordinary Gentlemen_ seemed troubled by this news, understandably. It was another weight on their shoulders, something else for them to deal with. But after all, it _was_ their job, regardless of the risk. They were here to protect London, and perhaps the world, and Mycroft had a feeling that – no matter the internal reluctance they all undoubtedly had – they would go ahead with it anyway.

             "This place… this museum…" Sawyer's voice was quiet, but laced with an unusual darkness and warning. All eyes turned on the younger man as he continued, "We can't stay here."

            Quatermain eyed the American cautiously, narrowing his eyes as he asked for clarification; "What?"

            "We have to leave." Sawyer stared straight ahead and down at the ground, lost in his own world of memory and imagination, perhaps. There was an odd light, like concern, in his green eyes. "It isn't safe."

            "You're still shaken up," Mrs. Harker observed quietly, touching a hand to Sawyer's shoulder.

            "No," Mycroft put in then, firmly. "The boy is absolutely right. Skinner _knows_ this place."

            Sawyer looked up from his place of focus, and Mycroft was unsure of what to make of the expression the young man was wearing. He seemed annoyed at being addressed as 'boy', but also relieved that someone was agreeing with him. On top of that, Mycroft could see in the youthful gaze that there was confusion over everything that had happened.

            "To that end," he continued dominantly, calling all attention unto himself, "I suggest that Captain Nemo and Dr. Jekyll should relocate to the Captain's submersible boat."

            The blue eyes of Mrs. Harker rose into his, and she cocked her head inquisitively, gaze flecked with suspicion and curiousity. "What about us?"

            "My dear Mrs. Harker," Mycroft began, completely devoid of humour, "one of your team has had a simply frightful time. We thought he might appreciate a little... _holiday_."

            Sawyer, Harker and Quatermain looked to one another, and then in unison, their eyes fell upon Mycroft, who simply smiled knowingly.


	7. All Creatures Great and Small

**Author's Note:** Like I always do, I apologise for the delay in the update. Acknowledgements might be a bit short this time, but I'll give you all a shout out, so here we go:

**Angharad:** I couldn't make Skinner the traitor, no matter how much I follow the book, heh. The ending is a surprise. Everyone always seems to want to protect Tom _::nods::_ I'll delve more into Tom's head and his reaction later. Not this chapter, but the next. Thanks.

**Raven Silvers:** Aww, _we _know Skinner isn't the bad guy, and hopefully the _League_ will too… Now, now, Rave, no slapping of self. Heh, suspense is good, we all know this, especially you, as a fellow writer. Thanks.

**Hex M Aurosa: **Yay! I am forgiven! I couldn't make Skinner the villain! I like him too much for that! And yes, Rave _was_ happy. Thanks.

**Anacalagon:** Thanks, Ana. Glad to see you happy.

**Leigh S. Durron:** Nope, wasn't Skinner. M. Holmes… can't tell you what he's doing. Nobody likes Holmes… or Bond… wonder why. But thank you!

**LotRseer3350:** Yes… don't try to kill Tom… 'says the girl who tries to kill him in every story she writes'. Ahem, yes. Mina is a bit off… shall we say. Mycroft's intentions cannot be explained by me, sadly, have to leave that to the characters. Thanks!

**Sethoz:** Scaring you is so fun, though! Ack, fist shaking! Hehe, Thomas Marvel (for those of you who don't know) is actually a real character from _The Invisible Man_. Found him, and decided to use him. _::nods slyly::_ Heh, yes, read the comic… but then I wouldn't be able to keep you in suspense! Nooooooooooo!

**TARilus:** Nope, Skinner _isn't_ wacko… though it was tempting for a time. And yes, Marvel is a jerk. You and your damn cool taglines you can make up! Heh. Ack, Hyde killing Skinner would be bad. And as for the rest… well… hehehehe. Thanks.

**queerquail:** Yup, wasn't Skinner. An insane Skinner is interesting, yes. Scary too, like you said. And everybody needs to (if they're not already) feel sorry for Skinner! Thanks.

**Miss-Smilla: **Thank you. Glad you are enjoying this. Bloody difficult to reverse is a tad of an understatement, yes… difficult and scary to imagine. As for your bracketed question… you'll have to wait and see _::winks::_ Thanks again.

**Lady Moon3:** Hehe, you should really read this chapter and reconsider your next freak out in regards to the term holiday _::grins::_ Still, funny to read your review, and thank you for giving it to me!

**drowchild: **Hehe, a confused and startled 'drow' is a funny 'drow'. Don't imagine… it's scary  o.O  Thanks.

**Nimmo Gray:** Okay… took me a minute to get used to the chat speak, but I think I read your review right, heh. I'm an angst-addict, my dear… it's not an 'official' term, but there are a few of us about, and we're usually linked to Tom, heh. Thanks.

And with further apology and no more delay, here is Part 7 of **_LXG2: Above & Beyond!_**

* * *

            They had seen Nemo and Jekyll to the docks, where the mighty Nautilus had been waiting for them, pushed out of the water with crew guarding her in her majesty. People were milling around, looking for passage on any vessel clearing out of London, and with the rain still pelting down all around, it was hard to keep track of them all, given that visibility was low.

            When that was done, Mina, Sawyer and Quatermain had been immediately transported to the train station, where an engine had been waiting to take them to their 'holiday' destination. Their bags were already aboard for them, having been carried by some of Holmes' men, and all they need do was find an empty compartment for the journey. They had little difficulty in doing so, seeing as Holmes had secured them one, in First Class… not that it mattered right now. The cabin – if you could call it that – wasn't exactly amazingly spacious, but the three of them had enough legroom for comfort, anyway.

            There were small posters and ads on the walls of the compartments, showing products and services, but the vampire heeded not one of them. They interested her very little, especially with a pensive American spy to her left, opposite Quatermain. The hunter was stoically silent for a time, staring out of the window to look down the corridor of the train carriage, and here and there, eyeing the posters with mild interest. Sawyer kept gazing at his Winchester leaned up against the compartment wall near to him, as if he would need it at a moment's notice. And the vampire… she closed her eyes for long periods of time, as if in thought, when she was simply – in actuality – trying to get thoughts of treachery and Skinner out of her mind, not to mention the numerous deaths of innocents at the 'hands' of the aliens.

            The thought of such a mobile device as the 'milking-stool' terrified her, though she would not so openly admit such a weakness. Weaknesses, to her, were something to be exploited, and she did not like them. At all. She loathed them; though she was never against feeling them… she could do little to stop it actually.

            From Wapping – at the beginning of their subsequent journey – the three of them had been taken – by carriage – to Waterloo, where they had been to commence on their journey by rail, as they were now. Despite the rain and the lateness of the hour, there had been some families with their belongings in the streets. The panic had begun. It would no doubt be worse in the morning.

            Smithson, who had wished them luck, had seen them off. Sawyer had been oddly quiet during the entire journey, and had started once or twice at a sudden noise, the hand gripping his Winchester tightening on reflex. She had wanted to console him, tell him that Skinner could not be following them, as she had no doubt he was suspecting. Though she had failed recently to do so, she would have smelt him if it was the case.

            Mycroft Holmes – if Mina had understood it correctly – was sending them off to visit the South Downs; to locate a scientist engaged in highly secret Government endeavours. Somehow, to her, this was suspicious. In fact, the endeavours were so secret, that the three of them had been told neither his name nor his whereabouts.

            They were to locate him and inform him that H-142 must be conveyed to London. Needless to say, they had not been told what _that_ was either. It was starting to grate on her last few remaining nerves, and it was all she could do not to growl at the thought of it.

            Quatermain shifted slightly in his seat, arms no longer tightly crossed over his broad chest as he looked across the compartment to Mina, saying solidly, "I can't get around the idea of this three-legged thing we saw."

            Sawyer turned his head from staring out of the rain-smeared window, to look at the hunter. Mina followed suit, and turned her azure gaze upon the older man, interested in what he had to say.

            "It was the way it moved so quickly across the horizon," Quatermain embellished darkly, "with this kind of controlled _toppling_." He sighed, shaking his head back and forth pensively. "If you could have seen it…"

            "Frankly," Sawyer interjected, eyeing the gloomy sight out of the window again as they carried on their way, "I've been more concerned with what I _couldn't_ see…"

            Mina and Quatermain turned their unified gaze upon the young spy, and looked on him with concern and awkwardness. What to say now?

            "I'm so sorry I left you alone with that treacherous… with Skinner," Mina said to him sincerely, her heart burning with anger and guilt at the betrayal. She didn't think she could take any more of this insanity, with the members of what was supposed to be the last line of defence failing and turning against one another. It made her blood boil with rage.

            Sawyer's inexpressive shrug was what worried her as he unconvincingly said, "I've been through worse." He sighed lightly, and Mina knew that Quatermain had missed the subtle sign of the attack truly bothering the young man.

            "What alarms me," Mina began, in the hopes of moving the conversation along, "is Skinner's _defection_ could cost us the war."

            "You're right," Quatermain agreed solemnly. "The odds against us are high enough _already_." He shook his head, and went back to curiously and guardedly peering down the corridor outside their room once again. "Especially if Nemo was right, and London has to see off _two_ of those milking stool monstrosities."

            Sawyer and Mina were both staring out the window; however, their eyes widened, and had not heard a single word of what the preoccupied hunter had said. Their breathing had simultaneously quickened, and the spy was shaking very subtlely, something Mina could sense, and had to command herself not to mimic.

            "Three…" she murmured, in a low voice not too unlike a whisper.

            "What?" Quatermain turned his head from his curiousity, and moved out of his seat, intending to look out the window.

            Together, Sawyer and Mina repeated, "Three." The vampire's hand slowly rose, pointing out of the window to the countryside beyond, and the heavens above.

            Up over the fields and small houses in the darkness of the night, another shell was careening down for a thunderous landing, a fiery trail burning out behind it as it rocketed downwards, taking the hopes and optimism of the three _League_ members in the train with it.

* * *

            Young Jimmy Grey walked with his aristocratic and well-dressed mother and father down the bustling hallway on the express train out of London, to the south of the river, and was rather hesitant about leaving the home he had grown so accustomed and attached to in his boyhood. There were adults and their children everywhere, hurrying to evacuate as swiftly as possible, and the train's carriages were reaching bursting point by the time the Greys had managed to squeeze aboard.

            "Ah…" his primly suited father began, lifting the rim of his cap enough to peer into the opened door of the compartment he was viewing. "Look to it, my dear. There's seats here." He entered, and started to slip his case up on the luggage rail overhead.

            Jimmy was gently pressured ahead of his upset mother, into the booth, even as she said to him, "But it's so full of _people_! Really, must we pack up and run like this?" She gave him a soft nudge in the back, adding, "You sit there, child."

            Jimmy entered the booth, and took his seat by the window as his father replied, "Dearest, it's only temporary, because of the meteorites. We'll be home soon, you'll see."

            The young boy had seen about the aliens all over the tabloids his father always read at the breakfast table, and it both frightened and fascinated him. He wasn't sure what to make of it, with his mind so filled with games and innocence and childish fantasies. These were the things of dreams and nightmares, and he was having trouble coming to grips with the fact that they were coming into reality. How could this be?

            "Oh, now it's hardly _moving_," his mother complained sorrowfully. "All these _people_, I expect. Oh, it's all too bad. I'd had those lovely new curtains delivered." His mother was dabbing at her eyes with a frill-edged handkerchief, and she sniffled every few moments, her lip quivering, as though she were about to sob. His father took the mantle in calming her down, from across the carriage, where he sat opposite his young son, Jimmy.

            "They'll still be safe when we get back, old thing. Now, chin up, eh?" His father gave a curt nod of his head, and attempted a smile from behind a thick, bristling moustache. He tipped his cap atop his head slightly, and neatened his tie, even as his wife outstretched a hand to her husband.

            Jimmy's keen eyes strayed out of the window as they shuddered along, and in the distance, he saw an odd spectacle of a thing, trundling towards them on three spindly, spider-like legs, with small tentacles waving about from underneath its large, bulbous body.

            "But _really_!" his mother continued dramatically. "Those announcements, saying everyone south of the river should _evacuate_. I've never known anything like it."

            "Father…" Jimmy attempted, looking to the rotund man in question, to try and get his attention. He wanted to alert his father to the strange creation that was approaching, though he was vaguely aware that there was nothing the man could do about it, really. He just wished for someone else to see it, to know of its presence.

            "Just a moment, lad," his father said calmly. "Your mother and I are talking." Turning his dark eyes back on his wife as she wiped at her eyes with the handkerchief, he continued, "Darling, you mustn't let things like this upset you…"

            His mother sniffled, nodding rather feebly. "I know," she whimpered. "It's just that our whole _lives_ were in that house. When I think…"

            "Father, _look_! **_Look_** at it!" Jimmy had watched the menacing approach of the monstrous creation with silence and wide eyes, and could take it no longer. It was gnawing away at him, and he simply bellowed out his command to his parents, and pointed roughly out of the window as it towered over the train, in the river, tentacles flailing viciously.

            "Good god…" His father stared with eyes like saucers out of the window, and the man next to him dropped his paper in disbelief. "What on Earth is–"

            Before his father could finish his oddly ironic sentence, the alien creation tore into the rail, and Jimmy was powerless and terrified, as they were thrown about in the train, the entire engine and its carriages plummeting down and into the raging river waters, taking all its passengers and baggage with it. The creaking, screaming and groaning of the rail as they were destroyed, and the train as it collapsed, not to mention the horrified passengers, was almost enough to make Jimmy wish he were no longer awake… was this some kind of horrible nightmare?

            All thoughts on nightmares and dreams were ripped out of the child as he felt the river churn around him, engulfing him, and swelling with blood all around, bodies of the murdered passengers rising to float horrifically on the surface, with its bobbing suitcases and disembodied hats and scarves. The bodies littered the waters, and Jimmy looked around in terror, searching wildly for his parents. They were nowhere to be seen, and he thought he caught a glimpse of his father's wide hat floating off to one side. Coughing and spluttering, he whimpered. "Oh… oh… mother! Father…"

            He tried to push back the tears, to be brave as his father had always taught him, but when he caught a glimpse of a mostly crushed skull to his side that could very well have belonged to a loved one, he gave in, and let out a yelp of fright and sadness. "Oh no… oh please. Please, I don't want to…"

            Feeling the bubbles and the motion from beneath him, Jimmy gave in to a new, curious kind of terror, and his eyes shot open all the way, as he felt something solid rise up beneath his feet. Amazingly still holding his brown cap in his little hand, he wobbled, and rose up with the miraculous creation. "Wh…?"

            A huge silver _thing_ had raised up beneath him, lifting him up with it, cool metal beneath his small shoes, gleaming in all its miraculous splendour with images and pictures all over it, carved from the finest materials of silver and steel. Something rose out of the top of the vessel – for that was what he assumed it to be – and groaned eerily, levelling at the murderous alien creation, and let off a cannon-like boom, that shook through Jimmy and knocked him flat on his rear, as he gave a yelp of surprise.

            What shocked him even more was the subsequent explosion from above and behind him, as the alien creation was blown clean apart, from the legs up, and pieces of it were sent rocketing off in all directions. Jimmy instinctively covered his head and cowered as white-hot debris started to rain down all around, and he gave a yell of fright.

            Even the sound of boots clanging along the bulk of the ship he was cowering on could not calm his racing heart, and he had curled up into a tiny, timid little ball, whimpering, and crying out, "Oh, _Lord_! Oh, Lord, _save_ me!"

            People were shouting; though he couldn't understand them, try as he might. They were communicating in some foreign language, and it was not one Jimmy comprehended. He continued to whimper, and cry out for help, feeling so very small and inconsequential.

            A man had come up to him, large and imposing, and Jimmy tried to scoot away, despite the impending threat from falling debris all around. "No!" he yelled at the man in terror. "Who are you?" Without waiting for the man to answer, he continued frantically, "Please, my mother and father…"

            "They are dead, my young friend," said the strange foreigner, reaching down gently to help him up. "You must be a man now." There was sympathy and understanding in those dark eyes, but that did not stop Jimmy from being afraid. He was helpless to stop himself from being picked up by the large man, and carried to a hatch further back along the body of the saviour vessel. "No!" he cried as he was carried. "Mother…"

* * *

            It was with a subtlely sympathetic, yet mostly stoic expression that Captain Nemo watched the young child brought below by two of his crewmen. The one who had rescued him handed him down to Patel, who took him under the arms, and hoisted him down to the ground. "There. It is all right now, young man."

            Nemo felt the pressure in the ship equalising slightly as they pushed deeper under the Thames, and he regarded the small boy with a scrutinizing eye, so used to analysis and perception. He was studying every detail about him, from what had been a slight polish in his shoes, to the wideness of his brown eyes as he gazed around, positively soaked from his plunge into the turbulent river.

            "This is the one we surfaced beneath, Captain," Patel said, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder, to calm him.

            Jekyll stood beside Captain Nemo, obviously concerned, and wishing to give the boy a thorough check-over in the infirmary. But such things could wait. Poking and prodding the child would not do to calm his nerves.

            "Find the boy some dry clothes, Patel. And give him some hot broth from the kitchens." Nemo clasped his hands behind his back, chin up, and turban proudly sat atop his head like a crown, almost. "Put him ashore when we dock at Wapping."

            "Yes, Captain," Patel acknowledged with a brief inclination of the head. "Come along, young man, let us get you comfortable."

            The boy was still staring at the Indian and the doctor as he was lead away, and the two _League_ members watched him carefully, unsure how to act around him. Jekyll was obviously quarrelling with the voice of Hyde inside his head, as always, and Nemo turned a calm eye on him. "He is speaking deviously of the child, yes?"

            Jekyll nodded abruptly, closing his eyes, and removing his pocket watch, to rhythmically open and close its golden, polished face, with a snap and a click each time. "Yes… and it is getting so much harder to block him out."

            Nemo regarded his friend with pity and sympathy, though it was veiled beneath dark brows, and behind a mask of indifference. "It will pass, Dr. Jekyll. Simply put aside his own thoughts, and collect your own on the matter."

            Turning his head to the crewman who had rescued the boy from the top of the now submerged vessel, Nemo said, "Retrieve the wreckage."

            The crewman nodded, and bowed, and was off on his mission, to fulfil his orders by any means necessary, as Nemo knew all of his crew would be, when given a command. He had handpicked the most loyal, hardworking and dedicated men available.

            Jekyll was looking out of the windows at the front of the bridge nervously, and sighed. "Hyde just keeps chattering about how this is all so unfair."

            "What is unfair, Dr. Jekyll?"

            "How we are stuck here, in London, with his unquenched desire to kill… and Quatermain, Sawyer and Mrs. Harker are off… on holiday."

            Nemo smiled behind his moustache and beard, glancing out into the dark, murky waters where debris was slowly sinking to the depths. "I doubt very much that they are indeed on a holiday, as Holmes claimed… I doubt that _very_ much…"


	8. Red In Tooth and Claw

**Author's Note:** Another late update, I know. Stuff is going on, and at least it's finally here right? Sorry.

**Raven Silvers:** Thanks!

**TARilus:** Thanks for the comments. A Skinner scene will appear next chapter, don't worry. You and your taglines! They're always so cool O.O

**Nimmo Gray:** I always put cliffhangers, heh. You'll have to get used to them. _::smiles::_

**redheadedtomluvr:** Thanks for the review, and welcome to the story. Glad you're enjoying it. And how could I make poor Skinner the bad guy? Heh.

**Leigh S. Durron:** Glad you loved it, Leigh. Oh yes, Skinner's in it rather deep, thanks to that blasted Marvel . _::shakes fist::_ Ah, freaked by the tripods? … Excellent _::grins::_

**LotRseer3350:** Thanks. Ah yes, the government project. It will all become very clear soon. Hehehehe.

**queerquail: **Hehe, little Jimmy Grey was actually in the comic, so no, he's not related to Dorian, thankfully, heh. Glad I could satisfy after camp.

**Anacalagon:** Heh, five in the morning?! What the heck are you doing up? O.O Yipes. Thanks for the review.

**Sethoz:** Thank you, dear Sethoz. Tension is a favourite toy of mine, as you know, heh. Tom-ness? Good, good. Love getting chapters to everyone's liking _::grins::_ Holiday… here's the holiday _::winks::_

And without further ado, here is the new part of **_LXG2: Above & Beyond!_**

* * *

            The luscious greens and blues of the countryside with the sparse clouds did nothing to content the three people walking through the long grasses of one of the fields. It was soft around them, almost gentle, and grazing a little way off to their left as they travelled were two large horses that snorted, tossed their manes, and chewed happily on the stalks below them, unaware or uncaring as to the presence of strangers.

            Mina Harker walked in the lead, with Allan Quatermain lagging at the rear. Tom walked in the centre of the two, parting them, and hoping it would help to diffuse the tension he had been able to sense between them since the hunter had returned. He wasn't sure what it was, but it made him deeply uncomfortable, and he only wanted them to 'give it a break', as it were. There were more important things to worry about than sexist bickering, and comparisons of expertise and experience.

            Tom almost rolled his eyes as Mina spoke from up ahead, a blunt command to the hunter at the rear, "Keep up."

            "Bugger it," Quatermain grumbled from behind the spy, "I can't. I'm _old_, dammit, I'm bloody _old_."

            _Well, I suppose resurrection will do this to a guy_, Tom thought to himself with a concealed half smile. The sun beat down on them lazily out in the fields of the South Downs in the countryside, and jackets and coats had been abandoned at the inn. Mina walked in the lead, in her formal corset, blouse and skirt, her red tie keeping the collar of her white feminine shirt upright and stiff, concealing the bite marks beneath. So far, she hadn't stumbled more than once on her heels in the field, which Tom had actually found secretly amusing and very human of her at the time. Quatermain was his usual neutral self, with shades of tan, brown, white and grey, sash around his neck, waistcoat with pouches and slots, and hardy pants, with tall leather boots. On his head, he wore his hat to keep the sun from his eyes, and in his hands was a kind of long wooden cane, to help him progress through the long grasses, though he had seemed loathe to use it at first, as if submitting to his age. Tom himself had simply shed the duster of a jacket, surprised at the heat that England could provide, and smiling to himself as he thought about it. His black waistcoat fluttered slightly in the light breeze, his boots traipsing along the dry dirt beneath his feet, his sleeves on his white shirt ever rolled up above his elbows with the top two buttons unfastened. His braces – suspenders, whatever you wished to call them – hung down behind him at the seat of his pants and around his legs, whilst his Colt pistols were holstered reassuringly at his waist in their harness. He was comforted by their presence and weight, even as the two with him continued their – to put it bluntly – whining.

            "This is why fatty Holmes sent me out here to the South Downs with you, Mrs. Harker. I'm only fit for–"

            "Women's work?" Mina cut in, without looking over her padded shoulder. Her voice carried clearly and crisply on the warm air, and Tom raised a brow, glancing behind him at the hunter, who seemed to offer him an apologetic glance. Tom smiled, and shrugged.

            "That…" Quatermain began hesitantly. "Blast it, that's not what I meant. Why do women have to turn everything _around_?"

            Tom tried to restrain the laugh at that, seeing the slight tense in Mina's form up ahead, as though she were tempted to bite at the perhaps unintentional verbal bait provided by the hunter from behind her.

            "I'm just fed up," Quatermain resolved firmly, calling forward to his two companions as they trudged onward. "I don't know what we're doing here."

            "We're looking for someone," Mina informed him plainly from the lead.

            "Who's somewhere around here," Tom input unnecessarily, just to see what would happen. His childlike curiousity was kicking again, and he had never really been able to resist giving in to it when it did this.

            "Yes." Quatermain seemed less than amused at the other two joining forces against him, something that amused the spy further, though he had no intention of angering his former mentor. "And we've no blasted idea _who_, and we've no blasted idea _where_." He sighed audibly, and pressed on, "If this man is so secret that even _Holmes_ doesn't know where he is…"

            "… Then he must be very _important_." Mina glanced back over her shoulder for a moment as Quatermain came up to Tom's side, and the two men pushed forth to shadow the vampire on either side. "You're tired, Mr. Quatermain, that's all. We didn't sleep."

            _Ain't **that** the truth?_ Tom thought, suppressing an oddly timed yawn, glancing to the beauty that was Mina's face, and staring for an unstoppable moment. He managed to drag his eyes away for a moment, and regard the looming forest up ahead. _Well_, he thought, _that sure doesn't look friendly_.

            "Yes, well," Quatermain continued unwaveringly from Mina's other side, seemingly struggling not to fall some way behind once again, "by the time we'd found our lodgings, it was _light_." Obviously, he wasn't pleased about this, but Tom would have thought the man was accustomed to days without much rest, given his past, with the adventures and hunting. Tom himself knew the bane of long hours, even days without more than a couple of hours of sleep, with his occupation. Sometimes, he didn't mind it at all, but right now, he would have appreciated the chance to lie down for a while.

            When Quatermain spoke again, he jostled a memory that Tom had barely registered, despite its recentness, "And what was all that 'Mr. and Mrs Sawyer' stuff about?"

            _How the heck did I forget **that**?_ It had certainly stunned Tom when Mina had given the names for registering at the inn, and he had had to fight off the wide-eyed expression that would have blown the cover. He had simply forced himself to stand beside the vampire now pretending to be his wife, and try not to look bothered about the expression the receptionist had given them. She had stared for a moment, and then smiled and given them their keys… of course, which there had only been two of, with the three team members – with Quatermain forcing himself to act as their unwittingly accompanying father. They still had to sort out _that _little puzzle.

            _Looks like I'll be sleeping on the floor of Quatermain's room_, Tom mused with a furrowing of the brow.

            "Nothing. It's just cover that was necessary, Mr. Q." Mina threw the hunter a glance, and for a moment, it seemed she was losing patience.

            Quatermain merely arched a brow, and chose to change the subject, with a hesitant glance at the seemingly focused Tom, who was in fact thinking back over the entire situation. It seemed somehow wrong that this place was untouched when the whole of London was about to burn in the fire of vicious aliens and their machines.

            _Optimism…_

            "I wish that bastard were here_ now_," Quatermain mumbled, and Tom wondered if the hunter had intended for it to be quiet enough so that only the vampire would hear. Sighing, he ignored it, even as Mina snapped back at the man who had spoken.

            "Don't say that… he might be."

            All three fell silent, and a chill ran up Tom's spine unnervingly at Mina's words. Dear god… she was right. What if Skinner had followed them here? What if he was behind them somewhere, sneaking in the grass and listening to them? Spying on them?

            _But **why** did he betray us? I don't understand it… he saved my life in Mongolia, and then he went and threatened it so willingly, just to switch sides to the aliens. Maybe he's trying to save his own hide, but it doesn't make so much sense now that I think about it. God dammit… why do things have to be awkward and complicated?_ No matter how much he thought about it, Skinner's defection would not settle in his brain and become understandable.

            "Oh. Yes… I suppose you're right," Quatermain said shortly after. "Fine time for me to bring it up," he added with a humourless laugh. "With these dark _woods_ looming."

            "They're all we have," Mina told him, and then glanced momentarily at Tom, as if to check he was all right with what had been said. He smiled briefly, wanly, in her direction, and turned his gaze upon the woods, even as the three of them stopped walking, a pair of butterflies fluttering past and around them for a moment, a beautiful contrast of orange and white as their light, airy wings flapped lazily, before they were gone again.

            "Our new M said our mystery man maintained a mobile base in the forest, so that no one knew where he was," Mina revealed, obviously having read the portfolio given to the three more thoroughly than the two men with her. Tom felt a little sheepish for this fact, and quietly cleared his throat, pocketing his hands out of subconscious habit.

            "_Thoughtful_ of him," Quatermain muttered sarcastically, tossing his arms out to his sides for a moment from beside Mina, almost striking her in the side, as she glared coolly in his direction. "Mrs. Harker," he persisted irritably, locking gazes firmly with the vampiress beside him, "do you have any idea how big these bloody woods _are_?"

            "No." Her reply was quite blunt and sharp in how it was delivered, but she did not leave it there, much to Tom's interest. She persisted quite firmly, "I only know that we have to find this person and that complaining won't make it any _easier_." She sighed, and rolled her eyes, saying somewhat flatly, "Why don't you try to _enjoy_ yourself?"

            "Yes, I suppose I should," Quatermain responded, and Tom furrowed his brow at the tone of voice. "At least until the spacemen come and _fry_ us."

            Tom nearly laughed at that, until he reminded himself it was not intended to be humorous.

            "Oh, do be quiet," Mina grumbled, and Tom thought he heard a growl, averting his attention, or trying to. "It's a lovely summer's day, and the birds are singing," the vampire was saying, glancing around as her pinned back hair lifted from her shoulders for a moment on the delicate breeze, and Tom noted her almost longing expression, frowning sadly at the look of it, and how it tugged at his instinctual sympathy.

            "Beautiful nature," he added quietly from beside her, and noted her attention switching slowly to him as he spoke. "And all so green…" He sighed.

            "Oh, don't you be fooled. It's _red_…"

            Tom went cold at once, and he dropped his jaw with a rapid intake of breath, feeling the cold perspiration bead up on his back, chest and forehead at the sudden voice from behind them, so previously unannounced and mysterious.

            _No… it can't be him… Mina would have smelt him._

            As one, the three turned their heads over their shoulders, as the voice spoke again, darkly and hissed almost.

            "Red in tooth and claw…"

* * *

            Nemo ordered the ramp to be lowered, and stood with the young man at his side, so far unnamed, and changed into a clean and dry set of fresh clothes. He held a small bundle in his arms, containing the clothes and small selection of personal items he had had on his person when coming aboard the Nautilus.

            The large ramp of the submersible lowered steadily on the chains, the guiding railings slotting out after it, and Nemo turned his head to the boy once they had descended, seeing the officers approach them somewhat hesitantly at the sight laid out before them, obviously not something they were used to.

            "Well, boy, here is where we put you off," Nemo told the young man, reaching out formally and in a friendly manner to shake his hand. The young boy took it, and they exchanged a handshake. "The constables will see you're entrusted with relatives." Realising the unknown identity of the boy, he looked down on him as warmly as he could manage, and asked, "What is your name, lad?"

            The boy looked up at him with soft brown eyes, and responded, "Grey, sir. Jimmy Grey."

            Nemo arched a surprised brow at the revelation of the name, and for just a flicker of a moment, he contemplated a connection between this poor child and the insufferable – and now deceased, ironically – immortal who had killed a dear friend of the Indian's. No… not possible. He cast the musings aside.

            "Y-your metal fish is very grand, sir," Jimmy Grey continued in awe, looking up at Nemo in reverence. "One day, god willing, I shall build one myself."

            This made Nemo smile, just enough to slightly turn up the edges of his mouth as he looked down on the child who had so made such a proclamation. "Good luck, boy," Nemo said, and nodded his head in a slight bow that the child saw but did not return, probably because he was not sure about doing so. Walking away from Nemo, Jimmy Grey passed two prowling black cats, stroking the tail of one as he went, and met with the police officers, who nodded to Nemo briefly, and then directed the boy away. Nemo watched him until he was out of sight, sighing, and hoping the poor child had some better luck in his future.

            "Is the child gone?" Jekyll asked from the hold, hands linked behind his back as he nervously peered down the ramp, as Nemo ascended it. "Hyde is most insistent that we are able to proceed with our work…" He cleared his throat tentatively afterwards, appearing sheepish.

            "Remind the creature that protecting the innocent _is_ our work," Nemo said to the doctor plainly, eyeing him sidelong, and becoming most concerned about the other man's behaviour as of late. He seemed to be worrying himself about consoling Hyde any way possible recently, and it was troubling to the captain.

            "No…" Jekyll began, and it was darkly and mysteriously that he did so. "Killing Mars-men… that's out work… and Skinner when we find him…"

            Nemo turned slowly from his point as the crew raised the ramp, and stared pointedly at Jekyll, who seemed to realise he had said something so very wrong, heaved in a gasp, glanced shakily to the captain, and waited.

            Choosing to – with great effort – ignore the obvious loss of control over Hyde by the doctor, Nemo countered with, "_If_ we find him, which is, I think, not likely. Besides, it would perhaps be a great shame if Sawyer, Mrs. Harker and Quatermain were not here for that event. They would want to be here for it… especially Sawyer and Mrs. Harker."

            "No," Jekyll murmured with a foreboding and frightening light in his eyes, as though Hyde were trying to escape this way. "No… I don't believe they would. They are not like us… especially young Sawyer… they are better off where they are."

* * *

            "The stars…"

            Mina stepped protectively in front of Tom Sawyer, perhaps without even realising, whilst Quatermain tried to do the same. Mina growled quietly, glaring at the form behind them, so very scruffy as he was, rather bedraggled, dishevelled and altogether odd. He had wispy, and upright – queerly enough – blonde hair that seemed to have a life of its own, with vividly startling blue eyes that gazed right into them. His face was strangely blank, and he blinked quickly. The clothes he wore were messy and haphazard, comprising of a crinkled blue shirt, buttoned up high to the collar, a grubby orange-brown waistcoat that was too short, and a too-large grey jacket that was missing a button. His grey trousers were torn at the bottoms of the legs, and his shoes seemed to be strangers to polish. Around his chin and jaw was fine stubble, and he blinked again. "They told me I should meet people."

            His eyes widened ever so slightly, as his voice took on a distant, dreamy tone, "That's… that's if you _are_ people."

            Sawyer poked his head around from behind the two older _League_ members unnecessarily trying to protect him, and he slowly emerged, obviously detecting no threat from this peculiar man. Mina's brow was furrowed, her eyes narrowed, and her growl had died away.

            Quatermain, however, was not so patient, as he blurted, "Keep your distance, blast you! Of _course_ we're people! What _else_ would we be?"

            The man started violently, and gave a gibber of a noise, like a squeak, eyes shooting right open again as he flailed his hands slightly with the sudden outburst and the shock of it.

            "And who the devil are _you_?"

            "Quatermain, don't shout," Mina warned quietly, reaching out a hand to stop the hunter from pressing forward to threaten the stranger away. He obviously meant no harm, this man. He seemed perfectly undamaging, save for the odd light in his eyes, and the scruffiness with which he presented himself. Sawyer offered the man an apologetic, and sympathetic gaze, even as the stranger moved in, grabbed the spy's hand and shook it. Sawyer looked startled, and glanced to Mina as the stranger did so, saying excitedly, "Me? Oh, I'm terrible sorry! Prendrick. Teddy Prendrick. I'm so glad they've finally _listened_ to me, and send someone to find him."

            Sawyer managed to peel his hand away from the newly titled Teddy Prendrick, and regarded it as though the man might have harmed him. Gazing at Mina and Quatermain, he blinked, and looked back to the odd man. "That'd depend on who you think we're _looking_ for," he said to Prendrick.

            "Why, the _doctor,_ of course," Prendrick responded, his eyes wide once more as he spoke, glancing around secretively and suspiciously before leaning forward and adding – as if it were some great secret – in a hushed voice, "The _devil_ doctor."

            Mina regarded this strange man sceptically and with just a flash of paranoia, keeping an eye on the proximity he made towards Sawyer, and asking herself why she was suddenly so protective of the young spy. Certainly, he was vulnerable, given his mortality, but he was not defenceless or weak or helpless. He could take care of himself, and she reminded herself to get a grip on what she was feeling, thinking or doing.

            "Everyone thought he'd died on his _island_, but _I_ know," Prendrick ranted, waving his arms madly in a psychotic fashion as he rambled madly. "I could see his handiwork about me _everywhere_!" He gibbered to himself for a minute, remembered his audience, and continued, "Rutting on all fours like… l-like…" He lost his train of thought, giving Mina the oppurtunity to study the features again as he hesitated. He was frightened… she could smell it on him as though it were a strong alcohol beneath her nose. She did not like it, but it intrigued her. "… And the _plump_ chap I met on my _return_! _Government_ chap! _He_ knew! You could _see_ it. See it in his piggy _eyes_."

            Sawyer's face showed a variation of disbelief, curiousity and shock at Prendrick's behaviour, and he stood beside Mina closely, hands out of his pockets simply now, his eyes narrowed as he listened.

            "This man…" Mina began carefully, "did he have a little moustache? Macassar oil in his hair?"

            "That's him!" Prendrick exclaimed. "And he _knew_! He knew about the _island_!"

            Mina couldn't stop the curiousity as to this island from swelling within her, but she held back from asking about it, lest she frighten the man off. He was very odd, and seemed quite timid, almost like a mouse, or a wild cat, very skittish and panicky. "I'm sure he did," she confirmed bluntly. "And you say that this… doctor… is somewhere nearby?"

            "Well," began Prendrick frantically, nodding vigorously to confirm as such, "yes. It's _obvious_. I've _seen_ them. The ones he's _altered_." His wide eyes were mad with fear now as he held up a weathered, scarred hand to regard it with shock and an oddity in his gaze. "You think they're people, but look _closer_! They're _animals_! What seems a man will have the eyes of an old hunting dog."

            Mina cocked her head in a bemused fashion, listening to these peculiar words as they were spoken, trying to fathom what on earth this individual was claiming. It made very little sense, but it intrigued her nevertheless, the fervour with which he was speaking.

            "Or perhaps they're _feline_. Soft and sleek to all appearances, but _stealthy_! _Vicious_!" He continued to inspect his withering hand, and then turned his gaze suddenly upon Mina. "Do you know the type of whom I speak, Madam? Hm?" Before she was permitted to reply, he pressed on, voice quieter and somewhat faraway as he brought his hand near his mouth as though shocked, "Yes… y-yes, I rather think that you _do_."

            With a slight squeak, he uttered, alarmed, "I've said too much already… d-don't try to follow me!" He started to turn, waving an arm as though fighting off an invisible foe. "I've set traps for your sort! _Traps!_"

            With that, he took off, chattering madly and incoherently to himself like a madman, and waving his arms over and around his head as though being attacked from above. He cut a clean path for himself through the tall grass as he went, and soon, he was nothing but a lank speck in the distance, still retreating.

            The three members of the _League_ stared after him, silent and perplexed, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed, confused beyond belief at the oddity of the situation and all the things the man, Prendrick, had just said. Mina tilted her head at an almost animalistic angle, and said, "What a peculiar fellow."

            "I'll say," Sawyer mumbled in agreement, cocking his head in a likewise fashion, and glancing sidelong to Mina. The two exchanged a glance, and shrugged.

            "The fat man he mentioned, that has to be our Mr. Bond," Quatermain suggested, eyeing the other two. Either he hadn't noticed their shared gaze, or he was ignoring it. "So the doctor we're searching for, and the one from our lunatic friend's island…"

            "Are the same man, yes," Mina confirmed, and turned towards the looming woods behind them. Sawyer followed her lead, and they gazed up at the huge, towering trees, thick and strong, hundreds of years old and reaching ever skyward for the heavens. "I think that's highly likely, Mr. Q."

            "Don't call me that," she heard Quatermain grumble half-heartedly as he turned towards the trees as well. She simply smiled to herself at the annoyance he was finally displaying given the nickname she had adopted for him long ago. She wondered when it would affect him.

            "Come on," Sawyer interjected, with an almost defeated sigh, as he started to progress towards the trees. "Let's see what we can find in here."

            Mina and Quatermain followed him, and the vampire let the scents of the woods flood her senses as she pushed and further into them, carefully traipsing her way around and over obstructions such as roots and bushes. The forest floor was littered with nuts, berries and the telltale signs of animal presence.

            "Africa."

            Sawyer and Mina turned their gazes upon Quatermain as he froze for a moment behind them, no longer using his cane, which he must have dropped out at the entrance to the woods when Prendrick had surprised them. Mina cursed herself for having not smelt the stranger before he'd successfully scared the wits out of all of them.

            _You need to pay closer attention, Mina… snap out of… whatever it is that's the matter with you._

            "What?" she asked of the hunter, curious as to why he had simply come out with the name of the country where they had previously buried him, only to have him resurrect.

            "Oh, just talking to myself really," Quatermain admitted as he picked up the pace again, strolling into step behind Sawyer and Mina, who were progressing steadily through the winding path in the trees. "I was just thinking that this feels like _Africa_ somehow. If I didn't know better… I'd swear there was game here."

            Sawyer glanced backward at that, smiling almost mischievously as he responded, "In Sussex? Might be rabbits, I guess."

            Mina refused the urge to laugh, or even smile, hiding it with a slight turn of her head, even as she filtered through the scents available again, and furrowed her brow ever so slightly. There was something odd on the wind, playing in her nostrils just slightly and teasing her senses enough to make her furrow her brow. What _was_ that? It was animal… but not quite.

            "No, I mean big game," Quatermain responded, and without turning, Mina could tell he was smiling, if only subtlely, at his protégé's cheeky behaviour. "I can almost smell it on the breeze."

            _You are not alone…_

            "And that feeling of being watched, by hidden eyes…" Quatermain's voice lessened in volume as he gazed around, walking at a steady, almost prepared pace.

            "I hadn't noticed," Sawyer confessed, and the vampire could hear the slight sheepishness to his voice, as though he were ashamed to be the only one. Mina offered him a supportive glance as they pushed further forward in to the trees.

            "You know," she began confidently, "that madman, Prendrick, his presence might be a good sign. He's clearly obsessed with our mysterious doctor."  She leaned a hand gently against the ancient trunk of a tilting tree, feeling the roughness of the bark as she passed it, Sawyer on the other side, and continued, "His proximity means that we're close. Perhaps this 'island' was a previous base."

            Sawyer nodded. "I think that's a pretty fair assumption." He hopped nimbly, and agilely over a log, displaying his youth, and Mina watched him do so. "So he's gotta be around here _somewhere_ at least."

            "Yes," Mina agreed with a light smile as Sawyer's boots thudded back to the dry earth. "We'll search for a little longer, and then we can return to the inn if we have no luck. We can begin again tomorrow."

            "Suits me," Quatermain confirmed, and heaved himself over the log Sawyer had vaulted spryly, without the youthful grace, but carrying an air of experience in such movements nevertheless. It didn't seem to trouble him too much to do so. "Frankly, I'd rather be facing spacemen with Jekyll and Nemo than tramping through this shrubbery."

            "Don't be so _dreary_," Mina teased lightly, and cocked her head. "Come, tell us about some of your past hunting to pass the time."

            But as the three descended into Quatermain's nostalgic tales of Africa, the rainforest and King Solomon's mines, they failed to even detect the heavy, taloned and ragged paw that thunked firmly down on the log they had cleared, feral eyes piercing the shadows.


	9. Primal

**Author's Note:**Sorry for the delay… crashing of computer prevented me from doing things at my own pace, but a friend kindly donated his pc so I could do stuff online for a while. Luckily, I wrote this by hand whilst in downtime, and… here you have it.

**LotRseer3350:** Thanks. I'm glad you think it's worth the wait. Heh, they'd come quicker if I could help it. Sadly I can't. Cool to hear about the move. Sounds nifty. Thanks for the comment about the Mr. and Mrs. Sawyer thing… but pretty much all the credit goes to the marvellous Alan Moore.

**Leigh S. Durron:** Big game… not good. Very astute… yup. Bickering is fun. Jekyll… I'm not telling.

**Nimmo**** Gray:** Cliff hangers are what I do best. You'll learn this in good time. Paw… cool… and I'm not giving anything away. Mwahahaha.

**drowchild****:** Um… yeah… heheheh.

**Hinril**** Moon:** No it doesn't bode well, does it? Heh. Turned into animals? Odd. London buses and songs… don't think they'll be appearing sadly, heh.

**Iblis****:** I'm glad you like the thoughts. Heh, someone knows what's coming, always fun. Hope it lives up to your expectations.

**TARilus****: **Glad you find it interesting. Aheh, you seem to be getting on the right track with your thoughts about a certain character there. Ah yes… _that_ regard… ahem. I do indeed know what you mean.

**Drakena**** the Destroyer: **No, it wasn't Skinner, thankfully… not sure Marvel could really be called a hobo now… he'd probably freak out and strangle you, heh. He's a bit insane, y'know. More drama and action, coming up.

Well, whadda ya' know… no Sethoz… I'm shocked, heh. I've scared her away _::__grins::_

I have to give a warning for this chapter, due to the content. You'll know what I mean when you get to it, savvy? Oh yes, and as for the later format, I was trying to simulate the quick pacing the comic shows… hope it worked…

And now, without any further ado, and my sincere apologies for the wait, here is Chapter Nine of **_LXG2: Above & Beyond!_**

:::

                Great belching flames tore and ate at the numerous building that made up the great city of London, rooftops collapsing and the screams of those unlucky enough to be caught in the carnage creating a dark, haunting melody over the turbulent river that was the Thames. The mighty, proud vessel that was the Nautilus protruded from the waters at the shore, surrounded by other boats and the like. They had been forced to push off from the very edge by some twenty, maybe thirty feet, when several desperate individuals had tried to clamber aboard… despite the size of the vessel. 

                Nemo and Jekyll stood silently atop the conning tower, watching the monstrous Martian tripods swarming in amongst the buildings, burning everything in their path without hesitation. The doctor felt his stomach swell, unsure as to whether or not this was so terrible… he couldn't push down Hyde so easily as what he had been able to, and he could feel the monster, almost _coursing_ through his veins, like blood, or some terrible drug.

                "Patel," Nemo began, without turning his head, "if one of them approaches Blackfriars Bridge, try to put a round beneath its canopy."

                The crew were standing or bustling about along the top of the Nautilus, and Henry turned to regard the Indian captain as he added, "Failing that, collapse the bridge."

                After only a moment of hesitation, Patel nodded. "Yes, Captain."

                "Collapse the bridge?" Henry repeated, not entirely sure of his feelings on the subject. Hyde almost cheered within him at the prospect of carnage, whereas the physician knew he should be feeling horrid about it.

                "The Thames is London's moat now, Dr. Jekyll." The dark eyes did not waver from observing the tripods, and Henry found he was slightly unnerved by this behaviour. "And whatever measures are necessary to contain our problem south of the river, those measures must be taken."

                Pessimism hit Henry Jekyll like a ton of bricks, and he sighed. "Goodbye south London, then."

                "Possibly," Nemo agreed mysteriously, and turned to regard the surging evacuees at the river's edge. There were dozens of them, all screaming and shouting for freedom from their terrible fates. "If we are fortunate, there are no more _canisters_ to come. Those creatures already here can only destroy so much."

                Henry had turned to look at the masses as well, diverting his attention three ways: upon the crowds; to Hyde… and on Nemo.

                "As for the population, hopefully they can escape in time." Nemo's gaze grew dark and ominous, his posture prepared. "If not, it is hardly a major strategic loss. They are only…"

                Swallowing, Henry reluctantly offered, "Human?"

                A great shadow seemed to come over Nemo, and when he spoke, there was a hidden malice and sincerity there.

                "English."

:::

                The inn – so affectionately called 'The Olde Stumpe' – was peaceful that night by the time the three returned from their surveillance, less than victorious. A few people were milling about their evening activities, and as Tom stifled a yawn as he walked through the door, a lone dog trotted down the lane. Quatermain and Mina were waiting for him in the foyer, and he caught up to them swiftly, feeling a little worn from their day of walking and exploration. Quatermain looked exhausted, and Mina… none the worse for wear. She was her usual, beautiful, unflustered self, auburn hair all in place, and not a crease in her clothing.

                "I'm just saying that if we find nothing tomorrow, we should return to–"

                "Hush," Mina silenced curtly, and Tom came up beside her even as the resident maid appeared at the foot of the stairs, hands upon her apron. She was a slight woman of rather mousy, startled appearance, with all her brown hair clipped and pinned beneath her maid's cap, and wearing a black dress under her white apron. "Miss Mopp," Mina greeted politely and pleasantly, "good evening."

                "Evenin' Mr. and Mrs. Sawyer…and Mr. Quatermain," she returned, eyeing the hunter oddly, attempting to be subtle and failing miserably. Tom supposed this was because he was posing as the father to Mina, and such a presence on an excursion for a young married couple was… unheard of.

                "Shall I do you now for supper, or will you be going straight up?"

                Mina was first to begin the ascent, with Tom moving up behind her. Quatermain moodily brought up the rear. The vampire turned, replying with, "Oh, we thought we'd retire early, didn't we, darling?"

                Tom was so thrown by her name for him that the only kind of response he could muster was a muttered, "Uh…"

                Quatermain smiled faintly, but Tom resisted the scowl with which he wished to retaliate.

                "Well," Miss Mopp began in her somewhat squeaky voice, "I'll do you for breakfast at eight sharp, if that's all right?"

                "I'm sure that will be most adequate," Mina confirmed lightly with an acknowledging nod. "Come along, dear; father."

                Tom and Quatermain glanced back briefly at the maid, and noticed her attempt to hide the mirth, seeing the woman order them around. They forced themselves up the steps. Miss Mopp nosily stood watching at the bottom of the stairs.

                Quite automatically, Tom almost turned to follow Quatermain, perhaps to arrange sleeping on his floor or something of the like, but Mina was quick to grasp his hand, and tug him back, and subsequently… into her – _their_ – room. When he was inside, she silently locked the door. Moving around him, and ignoring his bemused expression, she crossed to light the lamp.

                "Darling?" Tom inquired. "_Dear_?" He was trying not to smile.

                "You should have seen your face," Mina returned with a delicate cheer in her tone. "I was keeping up appearances. If you recall, we're on a highly confidential mission, purporting to be a happily married _couple_."

                Tom quirked a brow, still standing by the door, watching her, even as she added, "And I could hardly book separate rooms, could I?"

                "Right," Tom mumbled, as Mina reached up to her hair after placing down the lamp. She removed the clips, and it tumbled beautifully around her feminine shoulders.

                "Guess I'm sleeping on the floor, huh?" Tom asked lightly, and made a point of turning to try and find something else to look at when Mina reached up to unbutton her collar.

                _Just don't turn around, Sawyer…_

                "No one said you had to," Mina deadpanned. "It is entirely up to you where you sleep, Agent Sawyer, I am quite sure."

                "What…" He'd turned around, and almost choked on his words, eyes widening as he saw the blouse slip down her arms, freed from her shoulders and chest, and slowly yet gracefully, even as the cloth fell from her lowered hands, she turned her head to glance over her shoulder at him, blue eyes piercing. Her skirt wasn't long in following.

                "What do you mean? Exactly?" Tom managed, and closed his eyes as his fists balled in his pockets, just trying to control himself.

                _Don't think about it… think about something else. **Anything!**_

                He heard a sigh. "Agent Sawyer, surely at your age, this does not shock you?" He heard the light sound of lace, and another – more impatient – sigh. "Would you like to unfasten this wretched thing?"

                "Oh god…" He hadn't realised it had escaped until he'd opened his green eyes, taking in her form as she faced him. It was all too surreal, and all too abrupt. Why was she doing this? Was she _trying_ to tease him?

                But nevertheless, his feet carried him the short distance to where she stood. She turned around, her hands at her lean waist, as Tom's rose to the corset.

                Quite of their own accord, words slipped out of his mouth, "Aren't I a little young for you?"

                _You are the worst kind of assuming idiot._

                "Be quiet," Mina mumbled, and he gently bit his bottom lip, trying to stop his hands from shaking. "You haven't noticed my watching you… _protecting_ you." It was not a question.

                "I… I tried not to watch _you_," he admitted quietly, unfastening the corset, and noticing rather suddenly how dry his mouth seemed to be. "It felt wrong."

                "Tom," Mina began firmly, stepping away from him and letting the loose corset fall down to rest beside her blouse and skirt, "you are a _spy_, while I am disgraced and disregarded by the world." Her blue eyes angled into his. "Could _anything_ make us _more_ wrong, do you suppose?"

                Tom's heart was pounding a mile a minute, seeing the woman he had desired for so long in such a state. She was practically naked, standing before him, more gorgeous and honest – more _Mina_ – than he had ever seen her. Her legs, her body, breasts, face… she was perfect, more than he had realised. Everything clouded in his mind, only the thought of what she wanted him to do coursing through his brain. Subconsciously, he turned to switch off the lamp.

                "Now, unless I'm to feel silly about all this," Mina began as she disturbed the blankets, "please undress and come to bed." There was a pause before she added, "And kindly leave the lamp just as it is."

                Tom's heart was threatening to explode from within his chest, beating furiously against his ribcage, even as he turned, his hands pulling off his waistcoat, dropping it to the floor, his pistols beside them. He tried to avoid her observing – perhaps curious – gaze as he unbuttoned his shirt, subsequently shedding it off, leaving him bare from the waist up. Hesitantly at first, until he met her unwavering gaze, he reached down to his pants.

                He stood there for a moment, exposed to her, and suddenly feeling vulnerable. But she did nothing, simply urged him forward with a gentle, "Come here."

                Tom did so, moving onto the bed, and using his hands to hold him up, facing her as he said softly, still rather nervous, "You're beautiful."

                "Oh no," she contradicted in a voice barely above a whisper, "believe me… I am quite hideous." She did not sigh or seek sympathy or correction, quickly adding, "Will you kiss me?"

                Tom moved closer to her, laying a hand on her soft waist, as their lips met, in a longing, lustful kiss. Her right hand slipped round behind his head and through the blonde hair, to gently cling about his neck.

                _This isn't real… it can't be…_

                When their lips parted, she pulled his head down to whisper in his ear, words that caused his heart to jolt again, before she released his neck slowly, tracing her fingers down along his jaw, as he said, "Mina… that you want to _do_ this… despite the war… despite the uncertainty…" He hadn't even registered his own confirming nod, or movement.

                "Because," she stated simply, as he hovered over her. "_Because_ of the war. _Because_ of the uncertainty."

                Tom closed his eyes as she gasped.

:::

                "What's that noise?" Nemo demanded of the nearest crewman. "Where's it coming from?"

                "It's your monster, Captain. It's Hyde. He's with the Mars wreckage we salvaged earlier." The man pointed down the hall.

                "But… Hyde? Where's Jekyll?" Another racket. "That _clanging_! It's like a church bell! What's he doing with… oh." The door had been opened, revealing Hyde, who roared as he threw a bloodied fist into the wreckage.

:::

                Mina's arms pulled Tom's torso down to her as she breathed heavily, trying to forget about everything but him and what he was doing. She could feel him panting against her, and the rapid rhythm of his racing heart. She could feel him… smell him… almost _taste_ him, even as his lips brushed her neck.

:::

                London burned with the raging fire of a thousand suns all exploding together as the tripods toppled merrily and ominously, scolding anything in sight.

:::

                Hyde felt his knuckles slam into the wreckage, hearing the confirming, deafening clang as another dent formed, and he roared vehemently, feeling more alive and furious than he had in a long time. It felt good to let it all out… without that blasted elixir…

:::

                He felt her hands on his back, his skin damp with perspiration, and how she breathed against him, her lips touching against the flesh where his shoulder met his neck.

                He lifted a hand, even with his head down, and brushed her cheek and jaw. His head rose as hers rolled back slightly, and he whispered in her ear, "Don't take too much…"

:::

                "You see what it is," Marvel started carefully, the two attentive Martians before him, his cane drawing in the dirt before them, "it's a _submarine_." The jacket he wore singled him out from the other, stealthy, hidden invisible man, Skinner, who watched in horror. "It goes under the water. Under the _river_, yes? That's right. Like a fish. Aheheh. This is what's stopping you from crossing the Thames. Do you understand? This _submarine_. You have to do something to _destroy_ it." He lifted his cane away.

                "You have to do something to the _river_."

:::

                Hearing those panted words was enough to make Mina gasp anew, lightly, and she hesitated, feeling the fangs brush her tongue and lips… the curl in her hair.

                "It's all right," he whispered to her breathlessly, his mouth beside her ear. "I trust you."

                At that, the sound of the blood rushing through his strong, young veins overwhelmed her, and she parted her lips, tracing her fingers over his warm shoulder… before gently pushing her fangs through the skin, and drinking from him.

                She heard him gasp, felt the tension in his body, but knowing her own limits, she had no fear of hurting him. She ran a hand up his back, along his neck, and coursed it through his hair, even as he leaned into her, the blood flowing into her mouth. As she drank, slow but steady, carefully, his words circled in her mind.

                _Don't take too much…_


	10. Sleeping Awake

**Author's Note:** … I am ashamed. My update took a disgustingly long time, but I had writer's block, and I only suddenly got hit with the inspiration to write most of this part last night. Don't forget to check out my sites every now and again for updates. Links will be listed on my fanfic bio shortly.

****

**Drakena the Destroyer:** Let's hope that Hyde doesn't find out about Tom and Mina's antics then, 'eh?

****

**Iblis:** I'm glad you enjoyed it. Thanks.

****

**Sethoz:** Glad you enjoyed it, Sethoz. Yes, Marvel is evil. It's in his job description _::__grins::_

****

**TARilus:** You and your taglines… grrr… well, if this were ever made into a mini series with weekly adverts etc, I know who I'd come to for those. Glad you liked the biting. For those who have read the comic, you know it's the other way around, and Quatermain (yes, drastically changed partnership here) actually bites Mina, but… yeah, that wouldn't work. I will – hopefully, if I remember – explain Nemo's attitude, so don't worry about that. As for the Hyde thing… we shall see.

****

**Hiril Moon:** Thank you for the compliment. This is the retelling of the second comic, which is why you might recognise Hyde's antics, and even the language of the characters. _The Mummy Returns_… squeee! And it's a tad early for buses, heh. Sorry to disappoint you. And very sorry I've been spelling your name wrong; d'oh! . 

****

**drowchild****:** Intense? Thanks, I'm glad. I'm happy you found it tasteful. I was really nervous about doing it at all, and in fact, in my chapter plan, that scene ended after she asked him to "come to bed"… but for some reason, I kept going. Glad to _be_ back, though that was a while ago, but thanks anyway.

****

**LotRseer3350:** Heh, loved your response to that chapter. I suppose we'll never really know about the whole 'posing as a couple' thing, will we? _::winks::_ Sorry for the delay.

****

**INMH:** Indeed, indeed, the rating was partially _because_ of that upcoming chapter. _::wink::_

****

**i**** luv tom:** Glad you like it. Ah good, you found it tasteful as well, thanks for that. Hope this update was quick enough for you. P.s. sounds like you need a DVD player, heh.

With apologies for the delay, here is Part Ten of **_Above & Beyond…_**

* * *

The sound of running feet was what awoke him in that room where he had fallen asleep the night before, a liberty he did not understand, nor had he ever been granted before. Edward Hyde had fallen asleep… in _body_, not just in mind. Though he did not comprehend it, he did not doubt its value, and he appreciated the liberty and freedom with which he was being treated. Was this Henry's doing? No… that was not it. The worm had nothing to do with this… and as he poked his head out the heavy door that closed off the room where the wreckage was being contained – what little of it was left – Edward couldn't help but wonder what was going on… both with his and Henry's bodies and swapping of roles, and the commotion going on in the corridor.

Many of Nemo's men were rushing in the same direction, running quickly and collectively towards the ladders that led up to the decking of the Nautilus. Edward arched a brow, bared his yellowing teeth, and then pushed off to find something to wear. London wasn't exactly warm… he could remember that much. He hadn't been in the city – even the country – for so long… and the last time he had been let out – accidentally – at the common, he had been too distracted by the slug bastards to take in the details and beauty of it all. Dark thought its attraction was, Edward could not deny its allure. Though – by many – he was considered a beast, he understood and comprehended the traits and abilities that lay within beauty.

When he had found what he was looking for, in the form of a large shirt that Henry had requested made just in case Edward would ever – though it had been doubtful at the time – need one, Edward grinned as he pulled it on, fastening the buttons as he went, and then barking out a laugh when he found a jacket to go with it. He chuckled to himself, and slung it over his arm as he traipsed towards the ladder to head up onto the surface of the vessel. It was about time he got to go about his business as he wanted. It felt so gratifying, for a change, to not be on a schedule, and having to follow orders and be bossed around just because they needed his muscle to fulfil a mission every once in a while.

_Greedy little bastards… just because they can't do it themselves._

He tossed the jacket over his shoulder after fastening the last button.

_Perfect fit.__ Not bad, worm._

He found it curious that Henry was not responding in any way… before climbing the rungs of the ladder, only just able to fit up the tube leading towards the top of the vessel. He cleared the ladder, and yawned loudly, announcing his presence, even as he looked around, intrigued and darkly fascinated as he started to pull on the jacket. Cocking a brow, he grunted. "Huh. River _supposed_ to be like that, is it?"

Nemo did not even turn his back as Hyde stepped up behind him, having finishing donning his jacket – also a perfect fit, queerly enough – and said darkly, "You know that it is not. Do not jest with me now, Hyde." A slight inclination of the head showed the Indian's mood on the matter. He was angry. "I am not of a mood for it."

_Surprise, surprise…_

There were crewmen everywhere, carrying all manner of sharp and threatening instruments, some of which Edward remembered meeting first hand. Though he could see none of the tripods out in the city beyond, he knew they were there, watching… _laughing_ at him. He growled menacingly, and watched the crew as they hacked, chopped and slashed viciously at murderous, menacing red vines that were wriggling around like a red sea of tentacles. Boats were being steadily crushed with the force of the writhing, pulled under and consumed, and Edward noted all the people were still aboard. He almost chuckled, and then turned his attention away, saying, "It's the space-jellies who've done this, then? All this red muck."

"Yes," Nemo responded bluntly, clearly not amused by the trapping of his grand vessel. "I believe it is some type of anti-submarine weapon." His eyes were dark, and not only in colour, but in mood.

"The _effective_ type, from the look of it." Edward fought not to grin, and stood stalwartly behind Nemo, glaring out at the surging weed as the crew chopped and hacked at it. "Well, I'm not sitting here all day," he added, impatient, and thirsty for some action of some kind.

"We've little choice until the weed is cleared," Nemo reminded him, glancing to him sidelong, as if already fed up with his presence. Edward internally found this deeply amusing; the captain could do little about it being this way around, with Henry submerged for a change. He was no chemist, and knew nothing of the formula. Edward found this knowledge very comforting.

"What, and then we wait for Quatermain, Harker and Sawyer to return?" He grunted, turning and heading to the edge of the ship, calculating the distance carefully. He could leap it, but needed to judge the span accurately. He had had plenty of practise in his time, what with his stint in Paris. "Bugger that," he grumbled, "I'm going into the city, to the _museum_."

A gleeful idea filled his twisted mind, and he showed his yellowing teeth a little in eager, maniacal anticipation. Then he gathered himself, and looked stern and serious once more. Nemo was watching him, even as Edward backed up a little ways on the conning tower, ready for the leap, every limb poised.

"Hyde, _you_ can't walk through London, even if it is half-evacuated."

"Smithson will take me." Edward shrugged nonchalantly. "Join me for dinner there later if you like."

"Hyde, don't be _stupid_. We abandoned our museum base because _Skinner_ might _infiltrate_ it. It presents such an easy target for him, and…"

By this time, Edward had leapt the gap, landing squarely on the docks, and flashing a toothed grin at Nemo, before moving off calmly towards where he thought he might find the carriage driver.

Nemo blinked, narrowing his eyes in perplexity and annoyance. "Hyde?"

Edward was gone.

* * *

Allan could tell something was 'wrong' the moment he met the other two the next morning. They had decided to skip breakfast, and he was with them on that for some reason, though he noted the way Mina Harker practically forced Sawyer to eat a piece of toast and drink something. He had seemed quite reluctant, though Allan wasn't sure as to why. He had studied the young man's face, and seen the slight paling, and wondered whether or not the agent was ill. Perhaps he was just concerned about the mission and its progress… and the impending doom of the Martian invasion.

Shaking off such pessimistic musings, he walked with them out of the inn, and on their way back to the woods. They had decided yesterday to press further in today, and he guessed their plans had not changed at all. He strode behind the woman and the spy, and watched their body motions and language, studied the way they stood near to each other, and were almost silent.

Then it hit him… like a ton of bricks. It couldn't be, could it? If it was true, then how had _that_ happened? He far from understood it, but it explained quite a few things about the sudden changes in their demeanour today, other than Sawyer's complexion.

Unless… no, that wasn't possible. He shrugged that thought right off for its ridiculousness, and sighed.

"Is something the matter, Mr. Quatermain?" Mina Harker asked somewhat bluntly, obviously having picked up on the noise on the almost nonexistent breeze and choosing to start a conversation because of it.

"No, nothing at all," Allan quickly lied, trying to find someone else –_ anything_ – to focus on other than the two in front of him. He had expected the attraction, but never suspected they would actually ever do anything to act on it. He found himself oddly wondering whether it was because of the invasion that they had done what they had.

"Very well," Mina confirmed, and the three descended once again into silence. Allan allowed his senses to wander pensively, and he narrowed his eyes, that same hunter's instinct kicking in to alarm him to the presence of potential game. Though, when he looked around, there was nothing in sight. Only trees… just trees. But wait… not even a bird, or a rabbit. That was odd.

Furrowing his brow, he felt his Webley at his waist, and suddenly felt comforted by its presence. It was odd that he would feel this way when there was nothing obvious the matter, but he couldn't shake the feeling that eyes were watching him… them… eyes of a _predator_.

Perhaps he should investigate… it couldn't hurt. It might sate his curiosity at the least. If not, it might stem his concern.

"I'm going to take off in this direction; see if I can find anything. If not, I'll meet you back at the inn at midday."

Sawyer and Mina looked to him in confusion and intrigue, but both nodded. They said nothing, and Allan took that as his cue to leave, heading off in the direction he had indicated, his hand poised and ready to snatch at his trusty pistol if anything arose for him to need to use it.

* * *

Mina felt the awkwardness hanging between her and Tom, and quickly decided she did not like it. It did not suit them, to be this uncomfortable, and she did not want the events of last night to affect them… both professionally and personally. She liked Tom Sawyer. She really did. Perhaps in more ways than she had ever admitted, which had been evidenced last night by her outburst of intimacy and passion. That was when she recalled practically forcing him to eat _something_ before they left the inn, and turned her head to him. He had eaten it at least, albeit reluctantly, and perhaps – she thought – only to please and sate her.

Turning her clear and calm gaze upon the young man by her side, she noted his colouring, and felt her guilt swim and swell at once. Damn her thirst, she shouldn't have done what she had, regardless of his consent. "Are you–"

"It's fine, Mina," he told her, his gentle eyes meeting hers, and she saw his sincerity there. There was no deception in his gaze, and that both comforted and concerned her, as odd as it seemed. She was comforted that he seemed all right with what had happened, but concerned that he wasn't at least worried about the injury on his shoulder. She had checked it whilst he had slept, ensuring it wasn't too badly damaged, but after she had bitten him, he had weakened obviously, and she hoped she hadn't taken too much. But it had just been the initial shock of being bitten, she knew. She had seen it before in her life, and knew he would recuperate well on his own. But still, she wished there was something she could do for him, other than stand beside him, silently.

"It does not pain you?"

"No," Tom replied tranquilly, shaking his head and looking back to the path. "Not now, anyway. It did… before." His eyes met hers after a moment, and it was in a rather intense moment that they did so. "But you needed it, Mina. You can lie to me, and say you didn't, but I don't know when you last fed. You'd seemed… off, for a few days, but now…"

Mina felt the vaguest of smiles touch her lips before she could stop it, and let the slightest of laughs pass from her. "Perhaps you are right." The smile and laugh died, never to have really been. "And I am grateful for your consideration. I only wish…"

"Hey," he cut in, not abruptly, not forcefully, but insistent in a kind way, to set her mind at ease perhaps, "don't worry about it, all right? I said I was fine with it, and I haven't changed my mind. Just… let it be a while before you need to do that again, huh?" He smiled his trademark mischievous smile, lopsided and youthfully handsome, and Mina regarded him.

What was it he meant by his comment? She had a feeling she knew, but jumping to conclusions in a time such as this was not the wisest action. Her head cocked just delicately to one side, and she knitted her brows. He seemed to sense her confusion, and appeared awkward for a moment, turning his head to the side, his eyes obstructed by his blonde locks of hair.

Frowning slightly, she realised she might have offended him somehow. She felt terrible for that, and reached out with a hand, touching it under his chin, and turning his head to hers. Their eyes met, and their feet ceased in their movement. Delicately and gently, she leaned forward, and kissed him on the lips, her fingertips running back along his jaw after moving out from under his chin. He barely moved, simply reciprocated softly, and his scent filled Mina. She realised now that it had an almost musky edge to it, and she supposed that was from his work with guns. She did not know for certain, but there was a hint of it to his scent that almost pleased her. It was so very different to what she was accustomed to. Jonathan had been so very unique, with his faint and delicate aromas of the places he had travelled to. Dorian Gray… had always overwhelmed her. She wasn't keen on reliving the experiences in her head, and quickly forced them aside, especially when Tom's hands lifted to gently cup her face, almost embracing it as their kiss deepened.

She tried to tell herself that not only was this not the time, but neither was it the place. It was hardly an optimum setting, and she could only imagine what would happen should Quatermain return. Whatever would he think? That was when she realised she didn't care for the opinions of others, and had not for many years. They affected her very little, and she had long ago learned to shun and ignore them.

She soon found her back leaning up against a tree behind her, with Tom in front of her. Mina clutched at Tom's waistcoat, pulling him closer, and she felt him brush against her, breathing sharply as she did, hungry for him, but only in the metaphorical sense, not the literal, luckily. She had had her fill the night before, thankfully. She breathed deeply into him, and she heard his heart rushing in his chest.

One of his hands ran down her neck to her collar, caressing the fabric there, and the skin beneath. One of her own coursed up his chest to the unbuttoned shirt at the top, and her fingernails just scraped at his skin, but not enough to harm him. He did not recoil, only drew closer to her, if such a feat was possible.

That was when she smelt it. It was no longer the intriguing scent of the man before her, but rather, something else… something daunting and approaching, and she almost recoiled, but Tom was too close, and her back was against the tree, preventing her from doing so. The only thing she could do was open her eyes to gaze towards the other trees, and it was then that she _saw _it. Despite all she had ever seen, she almost wanted to scream.

Looming towards them was a huge, towering white monstrosity of a creature; covered in course white hair, save for the chest, which was shockingly akin to that of a muscular human. Its elongated limbs bore talons at the ends, amidst shaggy hair that covered a mixture between hands and paws. The maw on the brad skull dropped open slightly as black pools for eyes stared, and fangs dripped almost eagerly with saliva.

Unable to do much else, Mina shoved against Tom roughly, pushing him away from her. It took him only a moment to figure out something was wrong, especially when he saw both the expression in her eyes and the shadow cast over them, and he whirled at once, drawing and aiming a pistol.

Mina gasped and panted, shocked and amazed – and annoyingly intrigued, due to part of her being a scientist – as she stared at the creature which towered at – at _least_ – eight and a half feet tall. It gave a bellow and struck out, slamming the pistol to one side, before barrelling the other limb down, and practically crushing Tom beneath the blow.

With a growl, panic flooding her senses, Mina moved forward to help, but Tom was already recovering as much as he could, dazed clearly but instinct fought through the dizziness, and he kicked out at the legs of the upright bear-like 'thing', connecting but not making much of an impact.

Wildly, his hair in disarray, he yelled to her without diverting his attention, calling, "Run! Find Quatermain!"

Mina was reluctant, but Tom cried out again, even as one of the clawed limbs reached for him graspingly, "_Go!_" The beast roared again, and grabbed a hold of Tom, roughly, by the back of his clothing, hauling him around, and the young American fought viciously against him, to no avail, the size and strength of the bizarre creature far outshining his own. He yelled, telling Mina, once again, to run whilst it was occupied with him, and though she did not understand why, she actually turned her head to consider it. Perhaps she could have ambushed it from behind in her flock or –

"No," grumbled a husky, growled voice from the bushes as they started to shift. "You _come_."

Mina's gaze tore immediately to the sound of the disturbance, and a small cry escaped her lips at the sight of more of the hideous monsters stumbling towards her, bearing freakish likenesses to animals such as tigers – the creature in front was one such beast – leopards and the like. There was even one with great black wings and ebony feathers covering its torso… a raven-creature, with red eyes and an intense gaze, hauling Quatermain by the scruff of his collar, with a panther-like thing behind him, snarling warningly.

_Oh god… what hell have we come across?_


	11. Monster Side

**Author's Notes:** I am so sorry this took so long. I have had the mother of all blocks, and I was near ready to smashing myself repeatedly over the head to get _something_ happening! But here it is at last. Oh, and on a side note, I've lowered the rating, because – even with the content of the story – it seemed a bit high. Any requests to raise it again, and I'll probably do it, but it's no more violent than any of my other stories _shrug::_.

**Drakena the Destroyer:** I am indeed keeping faithful to the comic books, as much as I can be whilst being faithful to the movie at the same time.

**Marcus Lazarus:** Glad you liked the last chapter. See? There's another cool tagline! Seriously, if this were split into a weekly show, I could rely on you to come up with a little line for each week, hehehehe.

**I luv tom:** Sorry about the lj-journal thing. Didn't know you were reading it, heh. I promise I'll write more one-shots when I get the ideas. They're in there _somewhere_…

**Kame-sama:** Glad you find it exciting – that's good news. And you might notice a pattern in my stories… I'm always _mean _to Tom, but I never _kill _him _winks::_

**LotRsser3350:** Unexpected? Cool. Jekyll transformed without the potion; due in fact to a combination of the potion entering his bloodstream near the beginning, and Hyde raging stronger than ever inside.

**INMH:** Glad you like it. Tom/Mina moments? Oh, if I can help it _grins::_

**Delas:** Glad (I say that too much) you find it interesting. I hope the Skinner inclusion is to your liking, anyway. Number come up soon, you say? _::shifty look, accompanied by a nervous laugh::_

And now, without any further delay, is the new part of **_LXG2: Above & Beyond!_**

* * *

Rodney Skinner was still shaking like a leaf. His anticipation had overcome him, and he had tried to fool the aliens, but it seemed he didn't have as greater sense of communication with them as Marvel did. They had become quickly perplexed, even angered, by his attempts to speak with them in fractions and broken up sentences, and he had detected the signs before… well, he didn't fancy losing something he might miss later on.

Like his skin.

Shuddering at the thought of fire, he climbed the last few steps in the museum's hall, and came up on the second level, where he had last heard the impostor go. But now he had lost him.

Cursing the invisibility that linked them, Skinner looked left and right for anything out of place, furrowing his brow as he did so. On a whim, he turned right, and travelled stealthily in that direction, determined to find the man. He had to be around here–

There he was… the impression in the carpet was delicate, but it was there, and Skinner recognised it. He had catalogued in his mind long ago all the things that made him – even in the slightest – visible to those who would be present during his concealment, in case they gave him away.

Just as Marvel's standing motionless before the grand window did. The room seemed to be a simple rest quarters, devoid of bed, but lavishly decorated with chairs, tables, lamps and flowers nevertheless. There were a few paintings on the wall, and he wondered just how many other rooms like this there were dotted around.

His musings were broken when he heard Marvel shift in front of the window, and it sounded as though he yawned.

_Well, he has been a busy little git_, Skinner thought. _Must have tired himself out._ With a sneer, he advanced, not entirely sure what he planned to do for himself. But he had been watching this man for long enough, and it was time he did something about the wicked deeds Marvel had done.

Marvel needed to be stopped.

* * *

Edward refrained from whistling as the carriage rattled along, the sounds of distant fires, far off screams and the last dregs of society filtering to his ears over the noise of the horses' hooves on the cobbles as they travelled at a swift and steady pace. Smithson sat up on the driver's ledge, cracking his whip every now and then near the animals' flanks, and giving an encouraging yell.

Despite the surroundings, Edward was in good spirits. No matter how much he loved London – and hated to see her burn and fall into ruin – he was on his way to get rid of a nagging desire in the back of his mind. It would lift his spirits, he hoped. He despised not being satisfied.

It wasn't long before the large coach passed through the gateway to the museum, still guarded by some of 'London's finest', who watched them pass. Edward grunted at the sight of them; such men who had pursued him through the streets and alleys in years past.

"Right, we're here," Smithson said from his place, and the carriage rolled to a stop, the horses snorting and stamping their hooves. Edward started to climb out as the driver persisted, "Shall you want picking up later?"

"I may do," Edward acknowledged gruffly. "I invited Nemo to join me here for dinner later. Come with him if you like." Edward regarded him darkly. "And bring some food."

"Fair enough," Smithson grumbled in response. "Why are _you_ 'ere, anyway? You don't strike me as the museum sort."

Edward smiled slyly at that, revealing his almost jagged and discoloured teeth, eyes shining with intent. A slight chuckle parted his lips. "You're wrong. Why, I'm _obsessed_ with the past." One of his large fists clenched. "I simply can't let things _go_. Do you know what I mean?" Without letting the driver respond, he continued, "I'll see you later, I expect."

Even as Edward Hyde turned from Smithson's view, the rain started to drizzle from the heavy clouds again.

"Hm. See you later," Smithson said to him as he went. "Come on, girl." And with a crack of his whip, he was on his way.

Edward strode up the steps into the Albion, and pushed through the doors. Lifting his head, he took a sniff, catching the scent that had passed this way not too long ago it seemed. He laughed quietly, a rough, scratchy sound that rattled in his throat, before he pursued the scent up the staircase ahead of him.

He whistled as he went, knowing that Skinner would never be able to get past him unnoticed, should he hear the approaching giant of an alter ego. Past all the oddities and cabinets of curiosity he went, down a corridor towards an open door, peering inside before he stepped through entirely.

Yes, this was the place.

Turning around steadily, he pushed the door closed, finding in its lock, a key. He used it, sealing the portal, and slipped the key into his pocket at his side. He turned back around, looking to the lavish room he had claimed as his stage.

"There, now," he murmured. "All cosy."

Skinner could hear him. He knew he could.

He hummed a tune to himself as he travelled to one of the larger chairs, sitting himself in it carefully, ensuring he was comfortable before he sighed out, "Ah… lovely." To his side was a newspaper, and after arching a brow, he lifted it from its stand, turning to a page and perusing the words printed there.

He let the atmosphere in the room grow tense and agitated. Skinner would feel his nerves tingling now, eager to escape, just waiting for Edward to leave again. Oh no, but that wasn't the plan. That was not how Edward had set it out carefully in his mind.

Edward Hyde started to chuckle, and then laugh, craning his large head back on his neck to let out his mirth. "You know, this is really quite _funny_," he announced to the apparently empty room. "You're thinking 'if I don't make any _noise_, he won't know I'm_ here_'."

Edward set down the paper and laughed again. "_Now_ you're thinking…" He laughed again. "Now you're thinking 'he's bluffing'."

It was true that he was no mind reader, but he could practically smell these thoughts rolling off the thief in a panic. "But I'm not, Skinner. I promise you I'm not." He leaned forward in his seat, cracking his knuckles. "You have my word as a… gentleman."

Silence. Skinner did not respond.

"Ah, well. I suppose we may as well get things started," Hyde mused aloud, sighing, and he rose from his seat, pushing off from the armrests to stand at his full height. He cast an intimidating shadow.

"Oh, Skinner, come _on_. I know you're here." He grinned as he strode towards a podium sculpture in the corner. "I can _see_ you. I've _always_ been able to see you. Keeping quiet's no use."

"This…" Skinner's voice cracked the silence from the corner, and it was shaking. He moved slightly, his hand brushing against the statue as he looked around him. "Hyde, this isn't right…"

Hyde reached out with a hand, and he heard Skinner choke slightly as the fingers wrapped around the invisible neck. "No, I suppose not," he replied, not sure what the man was whining about.

Chuckling again, Hyde shifted his grip on the man, who futilely tried to struggle his way free. "This is your arm, isn't it?"

"God, Hyde, please don't… wait!"

And using his strong hands, Edward twisted with a jerk, and heard a snap, and then the following scream from Skinner, who writhed to get free.

"Hyde!" he wailed. "Wait! Listen, please!"

Edward was about to snap a retort of irritation, his patience wearing thin, but he heard a creak from the other corner behind where he had been sitting. He looked quickly in that direction, keeping his grip on Skinner, but saw nothing.

"I didn't hurt Sawyer! That wasn't me!"

Edward's eyes turned back on Skinner, who was trying to get free still. "I _swear_ I didn't hurt him; he's my _friend_! Why would I do that?" His pain was clear in his trembling voice, as he continued by saying, "_Please_, Hyde…"

Growling, Edward opened his mouth to respond, before Skinner gave a yell, and something crashed down on the back of the large alter ego's head. He roared, and reeled, splinters from the shattered chair scattering everywhere. He waved his mighty arms, having released Skinner, who yelled again, and rolled away to freedom, no doubt cradling his broken arm.

Edward felt the intrusion into his pocket, and swung his arm, feeling it connect, before he whirled to watch the flight of the cast-aside… _second_ invisible man? Hyde simply stared in shock, and moved to step forward to pursue this stranger, before a sharp sensation twisted his gut.

"Oh bloody hell, not _now_, you worm!"

But it was too late, and before he could stop it – even as the invisible man scrambled upright and ran for the door with his prize – Edward was jerking and convulsing, his body shrinking in the large clothes. Before long, Henry was back in his place, collapsing to his knees as a nervous wreck, panting and shaking heavily, staring at the open doorway in dismay.

_Another_ one? But how…?

An anguished groan from behind him made him turn, and he grasped at his trousers, swamped by the shirt and jacket. He tossed off the latter, wishing he could tear the sleeves to shorten them, and scrambled over to where it was evident Skinner was laying. He had grabbed part of the curtain, and it was shaking, and after a moment – as Henry Jekyll advanced – it was pulled free by the tight grip.

It fell down on Skinner as he gave a muffled yelp, and Henry thanked the odd occurrence. He could see the thief clearly now.

"Skinner, I'm _so_ sorry!" he declared as he came up beside him, trying to determine just where the man was hurt. This was more difficult than the burns in Mongolia. There, for some reason – maybe because of the extensive exterior damage from flames – his wounded areas had become visible. This was not the case here, and he struggled to figure out what to do. "Please, lie still so I can help you."

Skinner didn't speak, but stopped trying to escape, perhaps having realised it was Henry and not Edward. Though Henry was terrified at having lost control to his alter ego and transforming without the elixir, he had other things to worry about right now. Skinner was injured, and needed help.

"Show me your wounded arm," Henry told the man, and the movement around the curtain showed he had indicated it. "All right…" He moved closer to help, shaking his head with a confused sigh. "Why didn't you tell us _before_, Skinner?"

Skinner just groaned, and thumped his head back.


	12. Stranger By The Day

**Author's Note**: Bleh. Sorry. And the end kinda died on me, but I'd hit my chapter plan target, so… yeah. Sorry for the wait. And yes, there is a lot of _emphasising_ in this chapter.

**Sethoz:** You're probably right about Skinner. Save for the end, I believe this whole chapter is Tom, Mina and Allan – don't worry.

**tonianne** Thanks very much. Here's the update.

**Nimmo Sawyer:** I did indeed hurt Skinner. Put it this way, just be glad it's different from the comic; something VERY NASTY happens to the invisible man in that with regards to Hyde's 'punishment'. Thanks, regarding the descriptions. I do try.

**Marcus Lazarus:** It's all starting to fall back into place… but for how long? He stole the key, btw, to get out of the room, so Hyde wouldn't get a swing at him. Guess I didn't put that in very well.

**Drakena:** Poor Skinner, indeed. And yes, Marvel _should_ pay. And he will in due time, no doubt. And here's more of those hybrids you so eagerly wanted.

**queerquail** Group hug might not be too good for Skinner right now, what with the broken arm, heh. Glad you're happy with the rating.

**Kame-sama:** Gotta make those connections. Plus, I love the idea of Hyde being able to see Skinner. It makes sense. Skinner must feel like crap, with being branded the traitor wrongly _again_. I feel sorry for the poor guy now. Broken arms are never good.

**Raven Silvers:** Gah, sorry I made you scream, Rave. I didn't mean to. But yes, at least he didn't get killed, etc.

**INMH**: I thought the rating was a tad too high really, for the story. I overestimated the harshness of the content. Here's another update.

**LotRseer3350:** I loved the image of Hyde in that chair in the comic, so it had to be used. Too good to waste. Here's the update; hope you like.

Sorry for the wait. Here's the new chapter of **_LXG2: Above & Beyond…_**

* * *

Still aching from the blow he had been dealt, Tom walked close to Mina instinctively, with Quatermain not far away. He was standing almost as a guard over Tom, and it wasn't really something the agent revelled in. Hadn't he shown he could – for the most part – hold his own? If one of these big _things_ wanted to strike at him, he'd take it and retaliate accordingly. The gigantic bear that had attacked him and Mina in the first place walked in front, casting a great shadow back behind it, and over the three members of the _League_. The tiger-like beast was to their right, an eerie bat creation to the left, and a number of others behind. All seemed to have predator attributes, both canine and feline, and even some other than that. But it was the bear that intimidated Tom Sawyer the most, having been the one to down him like a rag doll.

"What have we blundered into?" Quatermain mumbled, eyeing each creation almost with horrified awe. Tom was surprised to see such expressions and dismay in the old hunter's eyes, and then he comprehended that the man had never seen anything like this in his time. Why would he have? There was some kind of twisted nature or science at work in these woods, and it made a shiver run down Tom's spine like an icy finger.

"I thought _I _was the strangest thing in these woods," Mina mused in little above a whisper, and Tom looked to her. He didn't like it when she referred to herself as 'abnormal', 'strange' or even remotely 'demonic'. She was, truth be told, unusual yes, but in no bad way conceivable to the spy. He wanted to lean over and reassure her that she wasn't exactly strange, when a voice boomed from in front of them, making Tom jump nearly out of his skin.

"_Quiet_! Not to _talk_!"

The three looked dead ahead, to see the looming bear-creature had turned his vicious gaze upon them, saliva dripping from his gaping, toothed maw, and it was from this being that the words had rumbled so sinisterly. Mina bristled at the command from what she obviously perceived to be a lower being, no matter its size. Her eyes flashed for just a second, and she wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"Sir, we are sentient beings, and unlike _yourselves_, we are _meant_ to talk!"

"Not to talk!" the creature bellowed at them, and Tom grimaced as the foul hot breath washed over his face. "_Not to talk!_"

"Where are you taking us?" Mina demanded icily, and the very tips of her hair curled. Her feminine fists balled, and Tom grabbed one of them quickly, trying to calm her as best he could. Given their recent… 'relations', he wasn't exactly sure where he stood, but he didn't want her to get herself beaten into the very ground for speaking out of place.

"Don't _criticise_ them, for god's sake!" Quatermain cut in harshly from behind, but the woman paid him no heed. Tom glanced to the hunter in a manner that told him he wasn't helping to diffuse the situation.

"I don't see why _not_," Mina returned suddenly, and she continued to glare at the large mammal before her, who was still baring large, sharp teeth in a dangerous manner. "If they insist on _behaving_ like beasts, they must expect to be _treated_ as such."

Tom tried not to smile at that. She did have a point. Whereas Jekyll and Mina themselves could be considered beasts, they in no way acted like them – unless you counted Hyde, but that was a given – and were looked on by society as just… odd individuals.

"**_Not beasts!_**" Needless to say, the bear was far from pleased with the title Mina had thrown at him viciously, and his hackles shot up along his shoulders and spine. Tom's brow furrowed with concern for a moment, his hand still over Mina's, and he swallowed dryly. He wasn't sure how much good his pistols would do him in this instance. "You not to _talk_!"

It still amazed Tom that these creatures could comprehend and achieve a human level of speech. Obviously – it didn't take much to notice – the vocabulary was crude, and somewhat limited, but the bear certainly understood everything they were saying, enough to bellow orders at them, waving one giant clawed paw in their direction for further emphasis.

Tom turned his head slightly to the right, intimidated even by the dark gaze of the bear itself, and… saw the tiger. Which was on all fours. Lapping water from a large puddle. He quirked a brow, and cocked his head. It was odd even to see these 'animals' do animal-like things, let alone human ones.

"You come with us, see _Master_! You…"

It took a few moments, but the bear seemed to hear the noise, and turned his great white and grey head towards the spectacle. All the other creatures seemed taken aback, drawing away almost nervously, eyes blinking feverishly in… was that dismay, or disgust? One or two hissed in displeasure. Tom glanced back at the bear, whose black eyes narrowed angrily, and he snarled, stalking towards the thirsty tiger-beast. His claws flexed, and Mina sucked in a breath. She, like Tom it seemed, obviously thought the large monster was about to tear into its fellow, but it simply clubbed it around the back of the head with a roar of, "No, Tim! _Bad! **Bad!**_"

_Tim?_ Tom cocked a head, both disturbed and fascinated. The vampire and hunter beside him were likewise transfixed, watching the odd scene play out before them like something from a drunken nightmare.

"Not to go on all _fours_, Tim!" the bear persisted in a controlled rage, bellowing down the feline's ear, and it cowered instinctively, a very peculiar reaction for something so clearly powerful. "Not to lap up _water_!"

Tom's expression twisted into one of nausea, as he looked around at the beasts surrounding them. There was no way out… at least not alive or in one piece, anyway. He could always try and distract them whilst Mina went for help; maybe… after all, Prendrick had seemed aware of these things. It was evident that _these_ were what he had been talking about. 'The Doctor's creations'. It all fit, like pieces of a queer puzzle.

"We go them see _Master_!" the bear was saying to the now-irritated tiger. It was standing up halfway on its hind legs, tail swishing furiously back and forth. Tom had had a cat as a youth… he recognised the signs of anger. That big cat was not a happy one. "_See_, Tim! Green one is come take us!"

Tom's brow furrowed at that 'revelation', even as the tiger growled distastefully with a lifting of large jowls to expose equally large teeth. Quatermain stepped closer to the pair, who – Tom realised – were still joined at the hands.

"_Green_ one? What on Earth are they…"

A slight noise from behind them made them turn on their heels to their right, and all three pairs of eyes shot wide open; their jaws dropping in unified dismay and disbelief. Behind them, something was moving up in what _appeared_ to be a miniature version of Nemo's automobile, except more squat and… _frog_-sized.

"Oh… my god," Tom managed, swallowing the lump in his throat. He had tightened his hand in Mina's without realising, and she actually reached down with her other to ease his fingers away. She stroked his arm once afterwards, far from giddy about the new creature herself, as it pointed with one green and warty hand back the way it had come. The little engine in the small car puttered and wheezed, but definitely worked.

"I-I think I'm gonna be sick," Tom mumbled under his breath, but managed to hold down the queasiness. He was certain he had paled though, and Mina touched his arm again, comforting him to a degree. "It's wrong. It's just all so…_ wrong_," he persisted, and glanced to her, before a large paw grabbed his other arm, making him wince, closing his eyes as the bear snarled down at him. He felt the foul breath ruffle his hair, and he grimaced, not moving so as not to displease the creature. After all, all that the bear would need to do would be to tighten and twist his grip slightly, and Tom's arm would snap like kindling.

"Quiet you now! Follow _green_ one!" the bear roared at him, and Mina snarled at Tom's side, even as the agent's breathing quickened slightly, eyes still closed and head bowed a little in submission. There wasn't much room for competition. "He go _Master_."

With a slight tug, Tom was thrown forward a little, but kept his balance. His eyes opened, and he glanced back at the bear briefly, seeing the baring of the pointed teeth in a silent warning. Mina strode up beside him, asking him with her eyes if he was okay. He nodded a confirmation, straightened himself up, and moved forward again with Quatermain and Mina.

As commanded, they followed the tiny car with its tiny, amphibian driver. Tom's nausea wavered and lessened as the trudge through the dense trees progressed, still shadowed by the creations as they paced along as guardians. There were one of two flitting through the foliage itself, he noticed, hearing the slight rustle and seeing the slight shifting of the leaves and branches.

When it seemed the woods were endless, and Tom's feet – along with his head – were actually starting to ache, despite training and past exertion that surpassed such a trek, the little car rumbled to a half, and the little frog – which actually carried a small _cane_ – started to clamber out.

"Look," Quatermain began irritably, turning on the large bear in a manner that made Tom's heart constrict in his chest, "I've had enough of this."

"Quatermain…" Mina began, moving to stop the hunter, whereas Tom merely stood and watched with deep concern.

"_No_. Either these beasts tell us where we're _going_, or I'll fight them right _here_."

Tom highly doubted Quatermain – or indeed Mina and himself along with the hunter – could make much of a dent in the creatures, but before he could say anything contradictory to the man's threat – hollow as it was – another voice permeated the air.

"That will not be necessary."

The voice chilled Tom for some reason, and the way the creatures around them took on a wary posture, even reverent… it didn't help to improve his mood. He turned his head hesitantly, along with his two companions, to see the speaker, who continued by saying, "Welcome, sirs and madam, to my humble sanctuary."

Tom's jaw dropped again, and he mouthed words that took on no sound. How they had failed to notice the building or its surrounding 'pedestrians', he couldn't fathom, but they were _everywhere_. From tiny mice that scuttled here and there, to a small giraffe that had a kind of collar device pushing its head up for it to stand on two legs… all manner of altered beats roamed. Dogs, cats, pigs, monkeys, a _swan_… and a rabbit that was… eating a chicken's head. Tom's stomach did an acrobatic flip, and he felt the bile rise into his throat with a dangerous swiftness. He managed to force it down, and shuddered slightly.

"I am Alphonse Moreau," the man said, wiping his bloodied hands on a filthy rag. "How may I help you?" The man himself looked to be nearing sixty, if not there already, with a mostly bald head. White hair rimmed his scalp, hanging down around his jaw and neck rather neatly. His clothes were presentable, of somewhat formal attire, almost. The white shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, had a starched tall collar, buttoned right up to the man's throat. He wore brown pants, black shoes and a black waistcoat. Over this, was a stained apron, brown-red splotches covering it here and there, and Tom recognised the tint of long dried – and even a little fresh – blood.

"I-I take it you are the _doctor_ we seek?" Mina inquired, acting as the voice when the two men could not find their own. She seemed to be having trouble finding _hers_, actually; something that unnerved Tom. He looked around at the menagerie of altered creatures, and lifted his boot when a small _clothed_ mouse tried to climb onto it.

"Sir, we are agents of the crown, and…"

"Yes. So I had gathered," Moreau interrupted, though not rudely. For his 'zoo', he seemed like a somewhat polite individual, and as Tom carefully set his foot down when the mouse scampered away, he wondered what reasons a man could have for creating things such as these. "That is why I had H-9 and his men bring you to me."

"H-9?" Tom asked, his curiosity running his mouth for him. "You mean that bear-thing?"

Said bear-thing did not seem very pleased with his unofficial title, and grumbled in irritation. Tom actually threw him a wary apologetic gaze.

"Of course," Moreau agreed rather cheerily. "The 'H' stands for _hybrid_. Didn't our masters tell you?"

_Our **masters**?_

"H-11, bring our guests some food, would you?" Moreau asked of a peculiar looking dog creation to his left.

It replied gruffly, "Yes, Master, Algy get food now." It seemed the animals had given themselves and each other names. After all, the tiger had been referred to as 'Tim' by 'H-9' back in the woods.

"A pug-dog," Mina murmured. "Incredible."

"Look," Quatermain began, striding carefully forward, stepping over the smaller creatures as the frog drove away in his miniature car once again, "Moreau, or whatever your name is, how did you know we'd been sent by the government to find you?"

"H-9 overheard you talking about me," Moreau offered, crossing his arms patiently. "His English is quite good." With that, he turned and waved for them to follow.

The three _League_ members hesitated only a moment, and then realised their unwillingness to remain out in the opening with the creatures; the hybrids. Quatermain was first to move, striding briskly to the door to be free of the animal company, with Mina and Tom close on his heels. As Tom passed the ape-like hybrid, he saw clutched in its hands a copy of _'The Iliad'_. Eyes widening, he hastened inside the door and didn't look back.

He found that Moreau had continued speaking as he drew inside the opening, "As for the government, who else knows I _exist_? They repositioned me here when there were… difficulties… at my previous establishment." He had not ceased walking, and the three followed the eerie man. It was either that, or go back outside to the madness. "Please come through," he urged politely. "H-9 tells me that you met with Prendrick yesterday."

"Yes," Mina responded, nodding slightly, and her nose wrinkled in disgust at a smell that assaulted her senses, it seemed. Tom watched her face carefully, before glancing back to Moreau. "He seems obsessed with you."

They entered what appeared to be a laboratory or workshop, and a smell hit Tom as well. He pulled a face not unlike Mina's, though with more masculine lines obviously.

"He is a former acquaintance who has unfortunately gone mad," Moreau sighed almost nostalgically, shaking his head whilst removing his apron. He cast it onto a desk chair at the side of the room, and Tom watched Quatermain pace away somewhat. Trusting that the 'doctor' would not be stupid enough to attempt to cause harm towards Mina, Tom followed, his foolish inquisitiveness winning him over easily.

"My creations keep him under discreet observation. He poses no threat." Moreau's casual nonchalance was evident in his voice, even as Tom cast a brief gaze over at the gentlemanly yet relaxed demeanour, before his eyes strayed back to Quatermain, who was cautiously lifting a white sheet from a bundle on a tabletop.

As the object beneath became painfully clear in its horror, Tom turned away at once, paling again, and feeling perspiration spring up in little beads on his forehead. He forced his feet to move him away, and he practically stumbled into place beside Mina as Quatermain gasped in disgust, "Good _Lord_. What on Earth's _this_?"

Moreau turned, apparently disturbed only slightly. Tom kept his face turned from the horrible sight, and he was surprised – though didn't react to such – when Mina's hand came up to grace over his cheek; her attempt to calm his racing and trouble heart and mind. He closed his eyes, and took a deep, shaking breath. She ran her feminine palm and fingers down the side of his face once more, before lifting his chin slightly with the same hand.

On the table across the room, where Quatermain had begun to back away, was a body. Though it wasn't human, it still carried a terror in its small presence, it's hairless and deformed body twisted to horrible proportions, the legs gnarled out of shape. The tongue had lolled out of the mouth, the eyes closed to mere slits in the large wrinkled head, with hanging ears that tumbled on either side of the skull.

"This was to be H-126," Moreau divulged, pulling the sheet slowly and carefully back over the lifeless and cold form. "But dogs are always difficult. Surgery is required on the limbs, so they can stand correctly." He placed the sheet back properly so it completely covered the form, and faced his 'guests'. "It perished under the anaesthetic."

Tom realised now where the blood had come from on Moreau's hands and apron. He simply stared, Mina's contact from moments ago having helped to steel his nerves. The covering of the body had aided in his calming also.

"We are here," Mina began quietly, almost as if hesitant, "to transport something called H-142 to London…"

"H-142?" Moreau turned from the table even as the small canine hybrid from before came along, some kind of tray in its frighteningly human hands. His inquisitive and beady eyes bore into the _League_ members as Moreau continued, "You are sure of this?" A simple nod from Mina urged the man to persist, "Then I take it that London is in grave danger."

"It's been invaded by… things," Quatermain said, lost for how else to word such a proclamation. "From another world. Perhaps Mars…"

"Look," Tom said, surprising even himself as he found his voice, and heard the subtle pleading behind it, "whoever you are, you've got to _help_ us." Mina twined her fingers through his own, and their hands locked once more, gently and comfortingly. Tom hated himself for his desperation at that moment, and even hung his head a fraction, inwardly scolding his interruption.

"I see," Moreau said in consideration, rolling up the sleeves on his white shirt as the hybrid dog placed down the tray. On it were arranged some fruits… along with some dead birds and mice, and while they were 'nicely arranged', Tom's appetite did not lift. "Then we must discuss this over _dinner_, yes…?" He chuckled quietly as he waved to three other seats around the table, taking his own at the head. "Like civilised beings…"

* * *

"Skinner, please keep still, I'm almost done."

Rodney Skinner took no delight in those words, wincing openly again as Jekyll shifted him awkwardly so as better to apply the sling he had ascertained would be needed with the obvious break in the thief's arm. Skinner gave a yelp when Jekyll bumped the affronted area, and the doctor mumbled an apology, even as the door from below sounded.

"Ah!" Jekyll blurted, and his already wide eyes opened into saucers. He scrambled to his feet, his pants thankfully staying up with the makeshift belt he had fashioned from a curtain tassel. He started for the door.

"Where're you goin'?" Skinner complained, knowing he shouldn't, but he just couldn't help it. It hurt, and Jekyll was going to hear that, whether he liked it or not. If the big idiot – Hyde, that was, not Jekyll – had just stopped to listen for a _second_, then Marvel would be the one in pain, _not_ Skinner.

"That'll be Nemo!" Jekyll called as he skidded out the door, shouting the captain's name.

_Bloody fantastic_, Skinner grumbled internally, in a most cynical fashion. He shifted against the chair where Jekyll had braced him, and heard the muffled conversation, and the hurrying of footsteps. It wasn't long before the door pushed open all the way, and Nemo, Jekyll and a carriage driver stepped inside. Skinner recognised him, but he couldn't put two and two together at that moment, and simply let his head thump back against the cushion behind him.

"Are you certain, Doctor?" Nemo asked as they moved over, and Skinner had no doubt what the Indian was referring to.

"Yes, he's bloody sure," Skinner grumbled, even as Jekyll nodded confirmation. "You were blamin' the wrong _bloody_ invisible man!"


	13. Calm Like A Bomb

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the wait; you knew I was going to say that. But this chapter should make up for it, I hope. A lot of alteration in this chapter, because it's now starting to take a turn from Moore's story and into my own… I hope.

**LotRseer3350:** Thanks very much. The frog… you should see the frog in the book. It's the one from _Wind In The Willows_. Heh.

**Raven Silvers:** Thank you, Rave'. Your poor Skinner has been through his turmoil though, so you needn't worry about me tormenting him anymore.

**Marcus Lazarus:** Glad you liked the last one, and I really hope you enjoy this one too. Happy you loved that line XD Had to be done. As to who shall survive… you'll see… o.O

**Drakena:** Didn't want to waver too far from the illustrated hybrids in the comic book. Though I really couldn't see a gigantic Rupert Bear coming in myself, so I changed that and a few other details. But I'm glad you were satisfied with that. And I loved that piece of fan art muchly XD One of my uber-faves from you, I think. Hehe, nice quip at the end of your review. Thanks.

**Angharad:** He is indeed a creepy person, isn't he? Glad you find him creepy in a good way, though. Hope you like this chapter, though there won't be any topless Jekyll, heh. XD

**Sethoz:** Very glad you liked, buddy. Tension is one of my specialties, you know that, hehe. Creepy is good, mwahahaha. Here's more! Enjoy!

And on that note, here is the new chapter of **LXG2: Above & Beyond… **

* * *

The day was rather pleasant, but it was drawing to a close, or so the light proclaimed. It was getting a little dusky off on the horizon, and the sun was waning. Quatermain, Mina and Tom stood on the track's edge at the station, their business with Moreau concluded, and none too soon, in the vampire's opinion. Even _she_ found the man slightly unnerving. Part of her was very glad he hadn't discovered the bestial part of her nature. He may have tried to exploit it. Of course, she tried to deny that even to herself, and simply did not give it much thought now that they were awaiting their train back to London's centre.

Using her heightened senses, she locked in on a sound that had been bugging her for a while, and followed it to its location with her eyes, widening them slightly at what she saw. One of Moreau's hybrids… except, being eaten by a small family of foxes; one vixen and her two cubs were tugging at the clothed rabbit.

She quickly averted her eyes, and cleared her throat quietly. Tom looked to her curiously, asking her with a compassionate gaze if she was all right. She smiled softly at the handsome young spy, and nodded. He seemed mildly put at ease after that, and fell still and quiet once again, hat turning in one hat, rifle in the other. She held back from watching him, and glanced to Moreau as the 'doctor' spoke.

"So, you say there will be a _train_…?"

"I believe so," Mina confirmed, nodding. "Out landlady's brother cycled to Cocking yesterday evening and sent a telegram to London for us." She didn't like the thought of having to stay in this place much longer. As it was, they were at an old and rather rundown station that appeared to have been out of service for some time. She hoped it would come. "I imagine they'll arrange a special service."

Moreau nodded his grey head for a little while, looking down at his prim cane for a few moments. He was wearing a neat, pressed suit, and looked almost like he was going out to the opera or to dinner or some such affair. "I imagine so," he agreed. He sighed lightly. "And I am sure that they will be most careful with our _cargo_."

At that, there came a noise from behind, which the three members of the _League_ recognised. Collectively, they turned their heads, to see two of the hybrids – H-9 and H-14; the bear and the tiger – carrying a crate. The hunter, the vampire and the spy tensed as one, and Tom's hand tightened slightly around his rifle enough to make the polished wood creak somewhat. Mina looked down at the discreetly whitened knuckles, and then to Tom's oddly impassive face. He didn't like the hybrids – none of them did – and he was trying to hide it. He put his hat on his head, and turned the peak down slightly. For some reason, he reminded her of someone then, as he shouldered his rifle almost nonchalantly, keeping his thoughts to himself in mind of the mission.

Shaking her head, she refused to remember anything of the incident with Count Dracula or anything about Lord Godalming, John Seward, poor Lucy, her poor husband, or her friend Quincey Morris. It was all in the past, and she had to move on. Looking away from Tom, she listened as Quatermain spoke.

"So _that's_ what military intelligence sent us here for, is it? 'H-142'? Another of your ghastly _hybrids_."

Mina watched the two creatures struggle to keep the box steady, and furrowed her brow in consideration of its cargo.

"One of my hybrids, certainly. It disappoints me that you find my marvellous children _ghastly_," Moreau sighed with a subtle shrug. Quatermain was eyeing him with a frown. "As times change, so too, shall our definition of the _human_. You will see."

Mina did not at all like the sound of that sentence. If she hadn't known any better, she could have sworn that sounded like a threat of sorts. Some sort of doomsday prophesising from some out-of-the-loop madman in the woods. Looking back to the struggling hybrids, she asked, "Is it _sedated_ inside that crate?"

"It sleeps, after its fashion," Moreau responded, leaning on his cane a little more. "When it wakes, it will perform the task our masters have in mind for it."

"I'm amazed, Dr. Moreau," Mina began coolly, turning her head to the man, "at how you keep your… children… hidden here, and under _control_."

"Well, naturally, they revere and love me. But you are right, mademoiselle." He chuckled softly. "Sometimes, to restrain them it is not easy. Some of them retain their animal urges." Tilting his head slightly to one side, he added nonchalantly, "H-9 there, for example, has strong sexual instincts."

The three members of the _League_ looked a little awkward at that revelation, and shuffled slightly on their feet. They couldn't help but look to the large bear in question though, even as Moreau continued, "When I have _pairs_ of them all, this will not be so much a problem. At present though, he can become frustrated, and also aggressive."

Mina noticed Tom looked up at that, almost with a grimace on his face.

"Luckily, a gypsy woman lives nearby, who can placate him."

Mina looked nervously to Moreau, asking rather tentatively, "You… you mean with _herbs_, perhaps, or…?"

Moreau looked very serious as he simply said, "No, mademoiselle."

Tom's awkward and sudden clearing of his throat cut the doctor off from continuing any further, and for that rather crude interruption, Mina was most thankful. She had rather a vivid imagination, and did not need anything of the sort that Moreau spoke of blooming in her mind just then.

"Ah," Moreau began sombrely. "That sounds like our train. H-9? H-14? Please conceal yourselves."

And with that, the two lumbering creatures made off through the tall grass to do as their master had commanded, with Quatermain, Mina and Tom watching them disappear. That was the last they saw of the peculiar creations before the train started to rattle into the abandoned station. It was a rather unmarked black engine with a small number of carriages, though one was clearly set aside for cargo alone. Mina and the others let it slide up noisily in front of them, the steam and smoke billowing from around the train covering the platform and wafting around them even as it ground to a halt.

Some men climbed out, with high collars, helmets, and showing the insignia of the government on their jackets. They were armed with rifles slung over their shoulders, and both men tensed for a moment, one either side of Mina. She rolled her eyes slightly, even as the leader of these arrivals spoke huskily, "You're Harker and Sawyer?"

Quatermain made a low grunt of a noise, no doubt offended, but Mina jumped in, "Yes. The object you're here to retrieve is over there." She indicated it with a motion of her hand, and added, "Please handle it carefully."

The men made themselves busy with collecting the crate and – as Mina had suggested – carefully loading it onto the train's cargo compartment. They also collected their small amount of luggage for them, and took that aboard as well. Quatermain and Tom were less enthusiastic about bidding farewell to Moreau than Mina, and she supposed this was because they had been the ones to be attacked by the hybrids, whereas she had had not been touched.

"Come on, Mina," Tom said quietly.

"We'd best be getting aboard," Quatermain added hastily, and made to do so, even as the vampire turned herself to the doctor. It didn't hurt to be polite to the man who had quite possibly given them something to turn the tables in the war, after all.

"Goodbye, Dr. Moreau," she said, offering her hand to him, which he took gently, as if afraid to break it. "I hope you will not lack for _human_ company, after we have gone."

"I am grateful for your concern, mademoiselle," he said politely with a wry chuckle. "But you need not worry." He smiled in a warm fashion becoming a grandfather. "I've a nephew who sometimes visits."

Mina could smell Tom just behind her, and heard Quatermain board the train impatiently.

"An artist living abroad, sometimes he comes up here and paints my _chimerae_, as he calls them." Moreau seemed amused by this sharing of information, and released Mina's hand. "I tell him 'Gustave, your work is excellent, if only you would _finish_ it!' Ah, well." He sighed lightly again, and indicated the engine behind the vampire. "Your train awaits."

It was on that note that Mina turned, smiling lightly and somewhat wanly at Tom, boarding the train. Tom remained on the platform a moment longer, watching Moreau, before he nodded to the man briefly, and followed Mina onto the train.

As they settled themselves in their compartment, they saw Moreau tip his hat out the window, watching him curiously as the train started to pull out from the station backwards. Staring out of that same window, they saw the trees, and the old, seemingly harmless man shambling through them, before out of nowhere melted the forms of the two large hybrids, the tiger on all fours in front, and the looming bear behind.

And just for a moment, Mina met the dark, ominous gaze of that bear as he turned his large snowy head to stare at the retreating train. She swallowed dryly, and said, "My god… what a nest of horrors." She cursed herself for her term and words, ashamed to think such things of other creatures when she herself was no angel.

"Couldn't agree more," Quatermain grumbled, crossing his arms tightly over his broad chest and falling silent for a while.

Tom pulled his cap slowly from his head, tugging his hair forward with it so that it collapsed into his eyes like a veil. In a low tone, he asked, "What sort of nightmare is in that crate, do you think?"

"H-142?" Mina responded quietly, turning her head to the spy across from her. "I don't know. Something dreadful to repel the invaders?"

"What, like, I don't know, a hybrid _dragon_, or something? Fiery breath against that _heat ray_ device?" Quatermain was being annoyingly cynical, and Mina gritted her teeth for a moment, biting back her vicious retort.

"Perhaps," she let out slowly instead. "Although the crate's rather _small_…" She smiled at the corner of her mouth in Quatermain's direction.

"And not particularly _heavy_, from the looks of it," Tom interjected, turning his youthful gaze from the window. "Presumably London know exactly what they're getting."

Mina nodded an affirmative as the train pushed under a bridge. "Let's hope so."

* * *

The train had been in motion a little under half an hour when Allan Quatermain opened his eyes from resting them. He shifted slightly in his seat, looking to his left, and seeing Sawyer in a similar restless state. Mrs. Harker seemed perfectly relaxed, and her eyes were closed peacefully. She looked perfectly collected, sitting there, as though the world were not at war.

Allan envied her for that.

Everything seemed too quiet, and Allan opened his mind to everything around him, hunter's senses working on overtime… and tuning in to a slight noise he thought he recognised. The train's churning and grinding was hard to ignore, but his eyes narrowed, and then widened slightly.

Clambering over to the window, he tugged it open, grateful it did so without much reluctance, and then stuck his head out of it, eyes shooting open wider than he could remember them ever being. "Dear _god_…"

Sawyer was next to follow suit, with Mina not far behind. All three stared in dismay and horror as the gigantic tripod toppled onto the track some two hundred feet down the line. Sawyer cursed colourfully, and couldn't tear his eyes away. Allan however, pulled back into the window, nearly falling on his face, and ran for the attention of the driver, calling out, "Stop the train!" as he went.

* * *

Tom's breathing quickened unbelievably, almost to the point of hyperventilation, and for a moment, everything else around him melted away, before he felt a powerful tug on his jacket, with a yell of his name, and then he fell backwards, into the compartment, landing… on Mina.

"What…?" he began, before she let out a breath.

"I hardly think you getting your head knocked off will help this situation," she said briskly, helping him up, and dusting herself off. "Come on. We need to get that monstrosity off the line."

They felt the train lurch, and grabbed the sides of the compartment to keep from toppling again. Tom screwed his eyes shut for a moment, but when he opened them, Mina's heels were already briskly carrying her for the nearest exit. "Mina!" he yelled in concern, snatching his rifle, and hurrying after her, even as she flung herself out the next door. She practically leapt into the air, exploding into a cloud of feral, screeching bats as she went, and taking off towards the enemy.

"_Mina!_"

_Oh god, oh god, oh god, ohgodohgodohgod…_

Quatermain landed beside him on the grassy edge of the track, and they watched in disbelief as the cloud of vampiric bats tore towards the tripod, which either didn't notice the oncoming mass, or didn't care in the slightest. Either way, it seemed intent on watching and stopping the train. What the thing was doing out here all by itself, neither man knew or could comprehend, both too caught up in watching those bats, hell-bent on either colliding with the head structure, or distracting it.

Whatever she was doing, Tom's innards were being torn apart by panicked worry.

* * *

Mina encouraged her bats forward, calling them to spread out around her whilst keeping her body concealed so the Martian tripod had nothing solid to concentrate on should its heat eye come into play.

She came up on the construction fast, the mass of it astounding up close, and she sucked in a breath, her bats closing in around her as she swarmed about the head. She reached into her coat, tearing two wicked silver daggers free with a ring of metal, before she took diving swoops at the tripod, trying to damage it, or break through.

Growling savagely, she stabbed at it again and again, almost feeling the concern from the two men she had left behind.

But the matter was simple. They were mortal… and she was a vampire. She stood a better chance of injuring or damaging this thing than they did, and if they came any closer, they would surely be destroyed.

Tentacles flailed around her now as she caused minor scratches in its shining exterior. Where were the men with their rifles now? She couldn't help but wonder about their bravery. They were nowhere to be seen outside the train, and this was when they were needed most.

She did her best to dodge the dangerous limbs as they wove around her, snapping here and there to try and dislodge her presence, and she snarled at them, lashing out with her daggers, hearing Tom cry out her name as he stood by the train, unable to help her. She was worried for him, and in doing what she had set out to do, perhaps she could help him survive a little longer for the main battle.

And that was when one of the tentacles struck her, the flexible yet strong metal lashing her across the back and causing her to give a scream as it tore through clothing and into flesh. Blood poured for just a fraction of a moment before the wound sealed, but another strike landed, and then another and another… she was being assaulted now, and her bats were failing, their screeching growing faint as they started to vanish.

She tried with all her might to call them back, but her strength was fading her fast, and she dropped one of her daggers… and then the other, even as one of the tentacles struck across her stomach, cutting deep.

She screamed out weakly, and fell…

* * *

"**_Mina!_**"

Tom's entire world was set ablaze in a burning panic, and his breath caught in his throat as he watched her fall, something inside of him going with her. Cursing loudly, he turned his head wildly in each direction, trying to find something – _anything_ – that would help.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon…" He jogged out from the train a little, turning his head, and then he saw it… something that could quite possibly give him a chance to save Mina. If someone didn't go get her, she'd be trampled. Even a vampire wouldn't survive being crushed by one of those three legs. He set off towards the trees on the other side of the train, mind set on what he was going to do, everything else locked out.

* * *

"Sawyer! Come back!" Allan turned his body just in time to see the young agent disappear around the other side of the train, gone from sight, and he cursed loudly and generously. He leapt back onto the train, and grabbed his elephant gun from the compartment where it had been left.

He jumped back out of the train, wishing he were younger as his knees protested the landing, and looked around. Still no sign of Sawyer… where the hell _was_ he? Surely he hadn't retreated _now_?

No… the spy was up to something; he could feel it.

And that was when he heard it. A mad crash of thunderous approach, and he turned his head, just in time to see the shape explode from around the back of the train, a wild whinny accompanying the movement. Tom sat atop the large black horse, gripping the reins tightly, and giving an encouraging yell at the startled animal, kicking it forward into a mad gallop.

As they passed Quatermain, the hunter nearly dropped Matilda in surprise.

Well… Sawyer certainly was resourceful.

* * *

Tom kept yelling at the animal as they galloped blindly towards the shambling tripod, and he looked down between the three legs, seeing the motionless form of Mina as she lay on the ground.

_Please be okay…_ he inwardly begged, and looked up at the Martian creation. It hadn't noticed him yet. If it had, he would have been burning by that point, he knew. He remembered the common all too well.

He had found the horse, along with a carriage abandoned on the road beside the track behind the train, and had run for it. The carriage horses were too alarmed, and too attached to break loose, and Tom didn't have that time, he knew. So he had taken the grazing riding horse from where its reins had become tangled in some branches. The rider was long gone, probably fled along with the carriage's driver and passengers at the sight of the tripod. One thing he was beyond thankful for was that the horse seemed to belong to either a farmer or a hunter. There was a rifle holster down the leg of the saddle, and the Winchester had slotted in there nicely before he'd mounted and taken off towards his target.

_You could very well die here, you know… but you don't care do you? … Didn't think so._

He shut off his mind, unwilling to give in to distraction at this vital moment, and saw the tripod turn slightly.

It had seen him…

"Well I see you too, you ugly bastard," he growled as the eye lifted and focused on him. It started to glow. "I don't think so…"

With one hand, he snatched down to the holster, and grabbed the stock, tearing it out and up, catching it with ease. Letting go of the reins with his other hand now too, and simply letting the animal tear forward, he cocked the Winchester, and brought the barrel up, aiming quickly and precisely.

"Let's see you burn _this_," he mumbled angrily, and even as the eye started to whine as it built up heat, Tom fired off a shot, the bullet exploding from the barrel's end, and rocketing forward and up…

… And smashing into the lens of the heat eye. It cracked, and reeled as if pained, but did not break. It faltered for a moment, and Tom cocked and readied the rifle again, giving a snarl as he pulled the trigger forcefully.

This time, the eye could not take the pressure from the hit, and the lens shattered under the force, glass and other material raining down from the flailing eye. It seemed agonised by the hit, and a kind of squeal came from the tripod.

Tom grinned mischievously, and tossed the rifle up into the air now that the immediate threat was gone, spinning and catching it, before throwing it down into the holster again, unneeded for the time being. Crying to the horse again, the animal gave a loud bellow of a snort, and thundered forward, mane and tail flying out wildly behind it as it streaked forward like a thoroughbred.

Coming up near the tripod, he saw Mina's head lift slightly, groggily, even as they moved under the groaning metallic creation. "Mina!" he yelled over the din, and saw her look to him. He galloped up beside her, reluctant to let the horse stop lest he couldn't get it going again, and reached out a hand. "Come on!"

She was on her feet at once, blood on her face from a blow that had already healed, and reached out with a gloved hand, catching his in it. With a grunt, Tom heaved on her hand, and she spun up into the air, landing squarely behind him on the powerful horse, which tossed its head and gave a whinny as she settled.

Turning the horse on its quarters with only minor difficulty, Tom slammed his heels into its flanks, and spurred it on its way back to the train, calling over his shoulder, "That was stupid, you know that?"

Mina clung to his waist as if her life depended on it, looking back with blue eyes at the wounded tripod for a moment, before saying into his ear, "Well, so was _this_, but you don't see _me_ complaining."

Tom laughed quietly, and grinned, warmed by her contact with him, even as they sped towards a rather startled-looking Quatermain and his own gun. He was staring with wide eyes, and Tom glanced over his shoulder. The tripod was moving away from the tracks, and towards them, slowly but surely. It certainly wasn't happy about Tom's shooting it.

Shaking his head, he muttered, "These guys just don't quit, do they?" Calling over his shoulder, he said, "Grab the reins, and when I say so, yank to the left!"

Mina hesitated for only a moment, before he lifted his hands, letting her reach around him and grab the leather firmly in her grasp. She nodded into his shoulder, saying, "I have no idea what you're doing… but I trust you." She kissed him on the side of the neck briefly, and Tom almost faltered, before shaking it off, and yanking the Winchester free again.

"Quatermain!" he bellowed over the approaching noise. "Aim for the foremost leg!"

The hunter seemed awakened from his daze at that order, and nodded gruffly, cocking the hammer back on his elephant gun, and lifting to aim.

"Now, Mina!"

The vampire tore to the left on the reins, tugging the horse's large head with it. It gave a wail, but turned, the bit tugging at its mouth, and soon, the legs followed. The body swivelled quickly and somewhat unnervingly to the left, and Tom immediately raised the rifle after cocking it.

"_Quatermain!_" he cried out, sighting down the barrel. "**_Fire!_**"

As one, the two armed men let off shots at the front leg of the tripod, each bullet slamming into the metal and chipping away at it. It weakened visibly, creaking and groaning dangerously, and the spy noticed the unsteadiness with which it moved.

Giving a loud growl, he cocked the rifle for the last shot, Quatermain having run on empty, and yelled, "_Die_, you bastard!"

Firing the last shot, he watched as the bullet slammed into the leg, and weaken it all too much for the device to handle. With an almighty groan and whine, the leg caved under the massive weight above it, and the huge mass over it seemed to wobble… before it started to fall.

The horse reared, but Mina braced both herself and Tom from falling, even as they watched the tripod topple to its right, away from the track, too unbalanced to stop itself, despite the flailing of the tentacles. It crashed down like the meteors it had brought with its creators, and kicked up a gigantic cloud of dust and debris, giving a moan as the tentacles dropped around it lifelessly, dying as if they had truly been alive. The last two legs twitched like an injured spider, and then fell still.

The horse snorted and panted, exhausted, tossing its head down and to the sides, shaking its shaggy mane as if to tell Tom it had had enough. Tom, Mina and Quatermain stared at their kill for a few minutes, transfixed.

Tom, for one, was amazed it had all come together. He had felt certain for a moment that he really was going to die. Then he smiled slightly, as Mina embraced him from behind for a tight moment, and then reached up with a hand, turning his head to her quickly, and kissing him passionately, throwing him almost off balance.

* * *

Allan had been going to comment on the fiasco, when he looked up onto the horse, and saw the scene of 'romance' for a moment, and his mouth snapped shut.

"Well…" he muttered. He had had a _feeling_, but nothing concrete. This confirmed his suspicions. He couldn't help but smile as they broke apart, eyes closed, foreheads resting together, and one of Mina's gloved hands stroking affectionately down the spy's young face.

Chuckling quietly, he said, "We'd best be getting back on this train, hmm?"

It was at that moment that the armed guards practically fell from the carriages, rifles in their shaky hands, looking around in wonderment, and seeing the spy and vampire on horseback, and the downed tripod. "We… uh…"

With a roll of his eyes, Sawyer dismounted the horse, offering a hand up to Mina, who gracefully followed him down. Looking reproachfully to the guards, he said dangerously, "Go back to sleep, we've handled the 'crisis'." Shaking his head, and patting the horse on the neck gratefully, he and Mina boarded the train once again, never far apart.

Quatermain saw the embarrassment in the guards' faces, and nodded at Sawyer's attitude. He certainly had become a man.

Following suit, he climbed back on the train as well, smiling all the way. Things didn't look so terrible all of a sudden.


	14. Edge of the Blade

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the wait. As stated in _'Envenom'_, I was partaking in a Ficathon. My apologies. Won't happen again… until the next one XD

**Angharad:** Thanks very much!

**Sawyer Fan:** I'm glad you can abide the Tom/Mina, given that you're not a fan; that's flattering. Heh. I was green with envy just _writing_ them, believe me! XD Thanks for the review!

**queerquail** Thanks for the review!

**Drakena: **Hehehehe. Your comment about the Mina/Quatermain thing is so true! So creepy O.O Gah. Shudder! And if you check the site now, after I did a massive update, that awesome picture is indeed up ;) Thanks for that, once again! And that mistake regarding the link was corrected too.

**Marcus Lazarus:** Thanks very much. I was hoping to get that reaction. I knew you'd like that Tom got in that killing blow ;) Very glad you approve.

**Raven Silvers:** Yay! Thanks very much! Horses and Tom is indeed… good. Very. _::nods::_ Skinner's okay! Yay! Eeep. Please don't bring an angry mob after me! O.O

**Tatsu:** Tom/Mina-ness! Hooray! Aww, thanks for saying that _blushes::_

**INMH: **Whee! Tom/Mina! Heh, here's the continuation for you!

**Sethoz:** Thanks very much, buddy. Groovy is a cool word… should be used more XD

And now, on with the show! Chapter Fourteen of **LXG2: Above & Beyond…**

* * *

Thomas Marvel cursed and rambled, pacing back and forth on the common where it had all began. The only evidence of his being there was the impression on the dying grass and dirt that his bare feet made, and the mutterings of displeasure as he moved, back and forth, over and over again. He was still sore from that brute's attack on him as he'd retrieved the door key, but oh how he had revelled in the scream of pain from that snivelling bastard, Skinner, when Hyde – as he was known – had smashed the bone in his arm like kindling. A manic giggle escaped Marvel's lips as he grinned, eyes flashing with an insane pleasure at the thought of whether or not Hyde had carried on… but no, his delight was short-lived. He knew the brute – no matter how dumb – would figure out the belonging of the blame now. If only he hadn't been so desperate to escape! He should have just watched; silent as a mouse, as Hyde had had his way with the thief.

Just who did Rodney Skinner think he _was_? He thought he was _worthy_ of such a miracle of science? What made him think something so ridiculously and insanely false? He was nothing but a worthless pickpocket, and he didn't _deserve_ this power! It was all his, it always had been! _He_ was the one who had gathered it for Griffin… _him_! _Thomas Marvel_!

_It's all mine! And I'll have his head on a spike before the end!_

Growling savagely, befitting a raging wolf, Marvel spun on his heel, and stormed away from the scorched common. His destiny awaited him, and he had no time to waste if he was to grasp it in both hands…

* * *

The steam puffed around the engine as it rattled into the station, its lazy journey grinding to a halt with the wail of the wheels on the track as the mechanics of the train started to slow to a complete stop, the whistle sounding firmly and almost deafeningly around the area. There were men on the platform, as deserted and litter-strewn as it was, and a rather noticeable rotund man was at the forefront, a prim handkerchief to his face to clear it from the steam and smoke.

Campion Bond looked positively panicked, but he was trying to hide it. Granted, he wasn't doing a very good job, but he was _trying_, and Mina supposed that was the main thing. She and her two male companions stepped down from their carriage, greeting the bureaucrat silently by standing before him stoically. Tom shouldered his rifle, looking every part the grim gunslinger, handsome and quiet, eyes ever-expressive and pensive. Mina refrained from smiling, with Quatermain taking up position to her right. He was holding his gun in his hands, proudly, waiting for someone to speak; either that, or near taking up the mantle himself.

Mina beat him to it with a simple, "Mr. Bond."

"Mrs Harker; Agent Sawyer; Mr. Quatermain," he returned simply through the cloth of his handkerchief, before he pulled it away slightly. The evidence of the train's industrious arrival was leaving the air, clearing it a little. "Y-you have H-142? The specimen has arrived safely without _damage_?"

Mina furrowed her brow. However would it have been damaged? It had been sitting, sedated, inside its crate for their entire journey from the South Downs. She had heard of no incident regarding the creature, which had been under heavy guard all the way back here, to the inner city of London. "Well… yes. I mean, I assume so…"

That was when she noticed the rather tense guards behind Bond, who had their gloved fingers rested readily on the triggers of their own rifles, ready to fire at the three members of the _League_ as if they were a danger. Mina growled, and was moments away from letting her eyes wane a fluidic crimson, hearing the movements of the two gunmen to her sides.

"Thank god." Bond noticed as well then, with a jerk of his head over his shoulder to look at his men. "It's _all right_! There's no need to _shoot_ us!" He looked a little alarmed, as if he did not have full control over his own men, a fact which unnerved Mina to some extent. "I repeat, they're _all right_!"

_How very disconcerting. Somewhat edgy, these men._ She made a mental note to keep her eye on them, and looked back to Bond, somewhat warily.

"_Shoot_ us? What…?" Quatermain removed his own finger from the trigger of his gun, though with a measure of reluctance.

"It's nothing that need concern you," Bond said quickly, covering up the entire incident by quickly declaring orders to his men as if nothing had happened out of the ordinary. "Come _on_. Let's get that freight car unloaded, and for god's sake, be _careful_!"

Tom and Mina exchanged a suspicious glance, watching the unloading of the crate as if they expected the men to turn and attack at any moment. Mina noticed – somewhat thankfully – the position of Tom's own trigger finger and hand, even, around the guard and lever of his impressive rifle. At a moment's notice, he would drop that barrel and fire in defence, she knew, and she was grateful for that unspoken assurance. Under the brim of his hat, she could see the certainty of this – hopefully unneeded – action in his intense eyes.

"Bond, what's going on?" Quatermain was asking fiercely, moving apart from the two slightly. "Waterloo's _deserted_, except for your special services people…"

"So is _London_," Bond practically snapped, and his round face barely even turned in their direction. "Time's running _out_, Mr. Quatermain. Please _excuse_ me."

Mina huffed, wrinkling her nose slightly at this rude behaviour. She may have been no prim-and-proper lady herself, but she was well aware of the proper conduct in polite company, and whilst circumstances certainly were grim, there was no need for this outburst. And he certainly was acting suspicious. They had every right to question, after all. They were somewhat out of the loop after their trip.

"That's it. Easy does it," Bond was muttering by the train carriage, observing the unloading with intense scrutiny, watching every movement his men made. Before long, the men had taken it out of the carriage, and cleared it from the train, onto a kind of long trolley for it to be wheeled away if necessary. There was still no movement from within the crate, and Mina eyed it with confusion. Should the creature not have awoken by now? It had been sedated for some time. Surely it was starting to rouse.

"Now, get the bloody thing over to Westminster. And whatever you do, don't _drop_ it!"

Bond strode urgently away from his busy men, and turned once more to the _League_ members. Mina narrowed her eyes pensively. This was all very strange. She did not understand it one bit, and she did _not_ like confusion. It had never sat well with her. Tom was equally frustrated by her side, and it took a considerable amount of willpower to refrain from linking her hand in his. He still had his gun over one shoulder casually, eyeing the large man with a level of distaste that Mina understood only too well.

"What is it, Bond? You _know_, don't you?" Tom had apparently had enough of being the quiet spy off to the side, and there was a ferocious curiosity in his words that made Mina proud, almost. He clearly was not in the mood for waylaying. "You know what's in that _crate_…"

"Yes." Bond nodded curtly, abruptly, as if this was nothing out of the ordinary, looking to the American almost with boredom. "It's the answer to London's _prayers_, Agent Sawyer. And _straw_, I hope. _Lots_ of straw."

Tom's face twisted into an expression of undeniable confusion, and Mina looked to him sympathetically. She did not understand either. Whatever straw had to do with this matter, she did not know, neither did she care. She just wished to know what a hybrid could do for their dying city, and their waning hopes.

"As for you three, come with me. We'll be joining your colleagues at London Bridge." With that, he began to stride, cane in hand – they hadn't even noticed _that_ before – towards the streets and away from the platform. It was eerie to see the once-bustling and heaving London without its crowds and masses. It was dead; there was not a soul in sight, other than the small company that moved. There were some men following them with their bags, but they kept silent.

"Why London Bridge?" Tom asked. "Is the Nautilus there?"

"No, that's still trapped at Wapping. London Bridge is where the _tripods_ are massed."

The three looked to each other, doubly alarmed. The Nautilus was trapped? Massed tripods? They certainly had missed quite a lot. Mina almost felt guilty, and she was sure Tom was frustrated; Quatermain too. They were men of action, and did not like to feel left out. Of course, she was no fragile flower, and felt quite the same way.

"Tripods? At London Bridge? We saw one out on the track on the way back from the South Downs. We destroyed it."

"Is that so?" Bond inquired, actually sounding rather flustered by this information. He paused for a moment, eyeing the trio incredulously, as though he refused to believe such a proclamation, before he seemed to realise just whom he was addressing. "Good work. At least we know they _can_ be destroyed by conventional means." Of course, he was referring to their lack of heavy artillery, which they had clearly been using against the giant contraptions so far. Mina was unsure of the results this had garnered, but she hoped it was fruitful.

"So far, we've held them in South London, except one that landed at Primrose Hill."

Tom and Mina exchanged glances again, and Quatermain narrowed his intense eyes.

"_That_ one was seemingly intended as a major manufacturing base, but luckily we incinerated it in its crater." Bond showed little pride in his explanation as they entered one of the larger streets, where a carriage was waiting, a rather grim driver poised on his perch. "Ah, well, here's our transport."

_The man does have the infuriating habit of stating the obvious_, Mina mused as they approached the carriage. The silent men followed behind Tom and Quatermain with the luggage.

Mina let her eyes wander, chilled by the silent streets, even as she uttered, "My god… where _is_ everybody?"

"All evacuated," Bond imparted simply, heaving himself into the carriage, which rocked with his doing so. "If we can't hold them at the _river_, London's _finished_." Calling out of his little window, he announced to the driver, "The Bridge, Smithson. Quick as you can."

"Right you are, sir," the driver grunted as the _League_ members climbed into the carriage, with their luggage firmly tucked away in the appropriate places. With a crack of his long whip, the horses jumped forward into a brisk pace, carrying its passengers swiftly to their destination.

"Why London Bridge?" Quatermain asked. "Can't those things use another bridge, or wade across the river?"

"Yes, well, messed that up for themselves, didn't they? Filled the Thames with this ghastly _weed_. That's what disabled the Nautilus."

At least now a piece of the puzzle was in place, but it still clouded their minds and confounded them.

"As for the bridges, Tower Bridge we _raised_, obviously. Most of the others we've blocked with rubble." Bond had removed his cigarette case from his jacket, Quatermain looking to him irritably. Mina and Tom sat across from the two older men, listening to the liaison prattle on. "Rotherhithe Bridge we blew up, along with the tripod that was _on_ it." There was a brief pause, before he quickly included, "And the people of course."

Mina frowned heavily, and looked to Tom, who had closed his eyes for a few moments, his cap pulled from his head. She thought she heard him growl, but she wasn't sure, even with her heightened senses, it was hard to tell. She laid her hand on his to calm him, and saw him open his eyes, looking to her only briefly as they waited to see if Bond would continue.

Instead, it was Quatermain who spoke up, a kind of fury in his eyes as he said, "Bond, listen… that horde of _monsters_ Moreau's creating–"

"Ah. You met his _playmates_, did you?" Bond had lit his cigarette by this point, and was smoking it to relieve his tension, obviously. "They're not important. Merely an eccentric hobby we _tolerate_."

Mina's eyes widened a little in alarm, and Tom stiffened in his seat. "W-we'd assumed they were his government project."

"Really?" Bond exhaled smoke from his cigarette, turning his head away almost politely to the window. "Why would we need subhuman brutes who've barely mastered English when we already have _soldiers_?" He was beginning to lean out the window as he continued, "No, it's the H-140 series we're interested in. If the rest become a problem, we'll probably euthanise them."

Mina narrowed her eyes again. Though she had been no fan of the animals Moreau had created, they were still living creatures. They were _alive_, and that was something that should be respected.

"Smithson?" Bond called out the window. "Here will do."

The carriage stopped moments after, and they exited briskly, leaving their luggage and hats inside. The carriage was evidently to stay and wait for them, as Bond signalled for the man to do so, should the situation become dire and escape be needed. They started to move through the soldier numbers, eyed curiously. Mina walked close beside Tom, he having helped her politely down with an offered hand from the carriage. It had been unnecessary, but she had smiled at the thoughtfulness of the young man she had found her affections for blooming. After that night in South Downs, she had expected everything to become thick with tension, and awkward, especially with the ever-observant Quatermain never far away… but it had only settled things between them. They were never far apart, and Mina was, for once, optimistic. She supposed that was Tom Sawyer's influence on her mindset. Having him close to her reminded her of why they needed to destroy the Martians. If they were allowed to roam free, the human race was doomed, and the _League_ was the last defence. They had to fight.

"But…" Mina began suddenly, she and her spy companion – and even _lover_, she supposed – quickened their pace to catch up, with the vampire hitching her skirts irritably to allow the movement, "I mean, if the hybrid animals aren't _important_, then…"

"Then what was H-142? What was in that _crate_?" Tom had finished her sentence for her, his blonde hair bouncing around his handsome youthful face, his rifle at his left side as he walked next to Mina. His long coat flared out behind him, much with the faster-moving Quatermain's.

"That isn't your concern," Bond waved off with a gesture of his cane. "Now _hurry_! Your colleagues are waiting by the bridge-mouth fortifications."

They cleared the soldiers, moving briskly away from them, and Bond stalked up to the mouth of the bridge, or rather the wall near the river, where – supposedly – the rest of the _League_ was standing. Even from where she walked, Mina was beginning to pick up their familiar scents… and there was one more than she would have thought.

Or liked.

Eyes widening slightly, she looked from Bond, to Quatermain, gaze finally landing on Tom, who seemed unfazed, obviously. He couldn't detect the scents that she could. Therefore, he was unaware of who was standing waiting for them. Did the others know? They had to be warned…

Bond had finished his journey, leading them to the bridge fortifications, and he stepped aside, revealing the other members of the team. Nemo and Jekyll turned their heads to the three arrivals, and there, between them, his arm inexplicably in a sling, dressed as she last remembered seeing him days ago, was Rodney Skinner.

Tom froze, eyes wide in terror, before in one fluidic stroke, the gun raised and cocked in a heartbeat, and levelled at the thief's face.


	15. Wave Goodbye

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the wait… I hope you can forgive me. Here's a new chapter for you… I hope you can all forgive me for that as well o.O

**Marcus Lazarus:** Thanks very much for the review.

**Drakena:** Have no fear – a) all is not lost regarding Skinner, and b) Mina isn't with Tom because of his 'handsome, youthful face'. Hope you like this chapter… as you inquired a lot as to a situation within it, if you know what I mean.

**Delas:** Cliff hanger of Doom! XD My trademark ender to chapters, mwahahahah! Fans are indeed sadistic… there's a reason Sethoz, Sawyer Fan and myself belong to the Angst Addicts Anonymous club XD Glad you like Bond… someone has to.

**Niani:** Cruel? Yes. Fun? Of course XD

**Thysia:** Thank you kindly! You really are too generous with your words, but I appreciate them all the same. Gah… very generous indeed, you're making my face all red because of the blushing! O.O

And now for the new part of **LXG2: Above & Beyond…**

* * *

Skinner had guessed Tom would react this way… but that didn't mean he wasn't terrified by that gun pointing right at his face. He swallowed dryly, and looked into the spy's gaze. It was unwavering, and harsh. Tom was furious, and it was more than evident in the way his posture screamed of the tension throughout his entire body, no doubt. Jekyll and Nemo were stiff on either side of the thief, almost as if they were taken aback by the spy's behaviour… something that Skinner had warned them about, and apparently to no avail.

Glancing to Quatermain and Mina only proved to deepen his discomfort. Quatermain's resolve and irritation was shown in the hard lines of his jaw, the furrow of his brow and the cold edge to his eyes. Mina's own gaze was reddening, and the very tips of her hair had curled against her shoulders and chest. They were far from pleased.

Perhaps against his better judgement, Skinner moved to open his mouth and speak, but Tom cocked the rifle loudly, and growled, "I don't wanna hear it… whatever you have to say."

"Sawyer," Skinner began, regardless of the warning, which quite possibly wasn't the best idea, considering how Mina growled quietly. "Listen, please… I never touched you."

"_Liar_," Tom snarled furiously, and his grip on the barrel of the rifle was so tight and tense that the knuckles on his left hand were going white. Skinner didn't fancy his chances, unless Jekyll or Nemo stepped in; perhaps they felt it was better if he tried on his own though, which could have explained their silence. But he hoped they would step in if things got out of hand, which didn't seem too unlikely with how things were progressing.

"Think about it… why would I do that to you, kid?"

"Don't call me that." The tone of voice that Sawyer used left little room for argument so the thief nodded.

"Sorry. But why would I do it? You're my _friend_; I saved your life in Mongolia! Why would I try to hurt you like that?"

Tom's eyes narrowed. He looked to the silent figures of the Indian and the doctor, seeing their agreement to Skinner's claims. The thief was trembling slightly… this wasn't going to plan.

_I **knew** this was a bad idea…_

* * *

Tom was furious. His entire body was shaking subtly at the situation he found himself in, and Mina was resolute and primal at his side. Her hair wasn't as wild as it could have been, but he knew she was angry. No doubt her fangs were showing, but he didn't dare turn his gaze to confirm his suspicions. Why were they trusting him? Maybe he was telling the truth – which would explain his arm in a sling somewhat, he supposed – and he had never laid a hand on the spy, but… then who _had_? It just didn't make any sense.

"If it wasn't you…" Tom began slowly and quietly, staring straight at the thief, "… then who _was_ it, and why?"

Skinner shook his head. "Marvel, his name is. He worked for Hawley Griffin, the one who made the formula in the first place. He must have copied it before giving it to the bastard." Looking a little lost as to how he should continue, Skinner – Tom assumed – locked eyes with the young American. "You have to believe me."

"I don't have to believe _anything_," Tom warned simply, before he looked to the doctor and the 'pirate'. "What about you two?"

Nemo was the first to speak, saying simply, "It is for you to decide whom you should believe, Agent Sawyer… but know one thing; I would never betray your trust, and as such, I hope this helps you to reach a decision in this time."

_Why does he always have to be so cryptic?_ Tom looked next to Jekyll, who shrugged one shoulder.

"Tom… Hyde and I both _know_ there's a second invisible man. Edward found Skinner in the museum, and attacked him, before… he was attacked from behind. When he turned, he saw them retreating."

"_Saw_ them?" Quatermain inquired sceptically with a sarcastic chuckle.

Jekyll closed his eyes for a moment, pinched the bridge of his nose with one finger and his thumb, and revealed, "Edward has _always_ been able to see Skinner. And as such, could see Marvel also, by the same method."

"Which is…?" Tom narrowed his eyes; this puzzle was becoming more and more complicated with every passing moment, and with those tripods looming just on the other side of the river, it was doing nothing to improve his temper.

"Heat… plain and simple. Edward, being rather bestial and instinctual in nature relies on such senses and methods to detect…"

"Prey." Mina's use of the word was somewhat bland, as her hair straightened once again, and she cast her now-blue eyes to the thief.

Jekyll nodded. "Yes. It was how he found Skinner. Of course, he didn't realise Marvel was hiding until… he'd broken Skinner's arm. Which explains the sling." Looking back to the armed spy, he continued sincerely, "But I can assure you, in confidence, that he did not harm you. It was not Mr. Skinner… it was this Marvel character who attacked you." Shrugging once more, he removed his watch from his pocket, but did not open it at all, simply held it as if for comfort. "He had no motive."

"And this Marvel guy _did_?" Tom asked shortly, still having not lowered his gun.

"Precisely." Jekyll nodded. "Skinner explained it to us."

"Well," Skinner interrupted cautiously, "as best I could understand anyway. The way I see it… he wants to be _the_ invisible man." When no one remarked on this, as if perplexed, he persisted, "He wants me out of the way. He probably thinks I don't deserve the formula, seein' as I stole it an' all."

"He wished to be the sole user of the formula, to reap the benefits for himself," Mina said quietly, and looked to Tom slowly. "He sees Skinner as an opponent… he was trying to _frame_ him all along."

Tom, for the first time since arriving, removed his eyes from Skinner's face, and looked to the vampire at his side. He asked the question with his gaze; 'should we trust him?'

Mina barely moved for a while, before she sighed lightly, and laid a hand on his shoulder and frowned, looking back to the thief. "He is telling the truth… and I should have realised when it happened that Skinner was not responsible." Before Tom could even ask for clarification, she offered it; "The scents I detected… they had mingled. The more prominent one was suppressed by my concern for you at the time, but it was not Skinner's. It belonged to another. He did not touch you." Cocking her head slightly, almost as if curious, she added, "He may have been _present_, but he did not do the attacking."

Tom was starting to lower the gun, perhaps without even realising, but when Mina added that last comment, he looked disbelievingly to Skinner, pain in his eyes. "You… you were _there_?"

Skinner stumbled here, and a look of overwhelming shame and terror swarmed his features as he stammered to apologise with apparently all the sincerity he could muster, "Sawyer, I–"

"You were **_there!_**" Tom yelled, his anger and hurt at the revelation unbridled now, and he felt Quatermain reach to take his rifle, which he practically threw in the hunter's direction anyway, before pacing dangerously towards the thief, who mimicked the motion in the reverse.

"I… I would have…"

"You saw him attack me… and you didn't do _anything_ to stop it!" Shaking somewhat now, Tom felt his fists clench, an action that the thief no doubt saw. Inside, a voice was screaming at him to calm down and leave Skinner alone; appreciate that it hadn't been him to attack Tom in the first place. He ignored that voice, and paced closer, even as Skinner's back collided with the river wall.

"Sawyer… listen…"

"You watched… and… why didn't you stop him?" Tom was practically growling now as he stopped inches from the invisible man, seething and disturbed by what had been revealed. Skinner had been there all along, and had had the chance to truly clear his name and save Tom the pain of the full attack… but he hadn't done anything. He had just stood there and let it happen. That was perhaps worse than the aches and pains of the attack itself. Before Skinner could reply, and before he could be stopped, Tom had slammed his fist into the thief's jaw, enough to almost throw him off balance. Jekyll was quick to catch the unbalanced man, and looked to the spy in surprise. Mina came up beside Tom, who was breathing heavily, body tense as if ready to strike another blow, but she simply touched her hand to his own balled fist, and held it there, looking him firmly in the face.

Jekyll watched them, glancing to Skinner and asking if he was all right. The thief nodded, and stood up straight again, saying, "I _am_ sorry, Sawyer… I never meant to let it go that far… at all. Believe what you want, but I'm sorry he hurt you." With that, he fell silent, standing near to Nemo, who had not spoken for some time. Tom looked to all three of the men he had not seen for some time, and then turned away as Campion Bond approached once again, albeit somewhat hesitantly. Mina touched a hand to Tom's face for a brief moment and asked if he was all right with her eyes. He nodded simply and sighed wearily, glancing to Skinner plainly… his anger was fading. Though he knew Skinner hadn't exactly deserved that much of a punch, it had relieved enough tension to make it bearable.

"If you're quite done accusing and beating one another," Bond began tentatively but with a level of sarcasm that did not go unnoticed, "we do have a bit of a situation that needs to be remedied."

Tom took his rifle back from Quatermain as the hunter offered it outwards to him, the _League_ turned to regard the bridge in question, even as Nemo inquired, "You have brought the thing that will save London?"

There was something different about the captain, Tom noticed; he just couldn't be sure what it was.

"Yes, they have." Bond seemed irritable, and he was perspiring again as he looked to the Indian. "It's at _Westminster_, being prepared for _delivery_."

_Why does this man emphasise so much as he speaks?_ Tom rolled his eyes discreetly, glancing to the large man briefly in a sidelong and somewhat sceptical manner. He didn't trust him for some reason; his secretiveness regarding that crate hadn't improved the American's impression of the man. He was hiding something.

"And until it's_ ready_, we must keep the invaders on the other side of the _Thames_." Bond was brushing off the collar of his shirt, perhaps removing ash he had dropped from the tip of his cigarette a while ago.

"Hold on," Quatermain voiced with doubt in his eyes, coupled with suspicion. "Delivery? What do you mean?"

Either the bureaucrat ignored the hunter or was too busy watching Nemo turn to him, because he did not answer, and Tom narrowed his eyes in irritation.

"Bond, their machines will _cross_ soon," Nemo voiced, for once expressing some of his own impatience in his tone. There was a fire in his eyes that made Tom remember why he had been known as a pirate, and a fearsome one at that; that was, if the tales were true. He had naturally never ventured to ask the Indian about them.

Mina had not looked away from the sight on the other side of the bridge, her long straight hair blowing around her face for a moment. Tom turned his head to look as well, and swallowed dryly. The other realised the spy and the vampire had lost concentration on their 'argument', and followed their line of sight.

The river was a swarming pit of red, thrashing tentacles, vicious and intent. It tore boats asunder, and overturned them violently; on one, however, perched a small, unharmed bird, nonchalant as to the danger that shifted all around it like snakes in a hole. On the other side of the river was their real threat… tripods… a line of them, all advancing and monstrous. Their three gigantic legs toppled them forward with an eerie grace belying dancers in practise, and the large heads were fixed on the bridge, glowing 'eyes' never wavering for a moment. Below them wriggled their own tentacles, with the heat lenses turning this way and that in guard of their position. They would incinerate anything that came close…

* * *

Henry Jekyll stared sadly across the river, a horrible twisting and turning in his gut that nearly made him want to double over with agony. Tears of pain swam in his grey-blue eyes, which were already clouded with something hidden from the rest of the _League_.

Hyde was winning… he was losing control.

It had started on that night when he had gone in to look at the salvaged wreckage. Edward had simply torn his way free, without explanation… unless…

With a mental flash, he remembered the common; the attack that had shown the true and fearsome power of their Martian foes. The burning… they had thrown themselves to the ground to avoid the fire. He had broken the vial against his chest in his jacket pocket, and it had cut him… the formula was _in_ him. Not simply working its way through as it normally did when ingested conventionally.

No… now it was working through his blood stream for all he knew, and that would explain his turmoil, so much harder and violent than before. It was getting so painful; so hard to shut him out. He bowed his head for a moment as the tripods swayed at the mouth of the bridge.

Henry did not want to give in to Edward again… what little compassion and nobility had come from their first mission was gone from the monster now, and he raged inside like the beast he truly was. The doctor had made a terrible mistake in endeavouring to separate good from evil; while he _had_, in some bastardised form, separated them… it was only to make them individuals. Two beings in one body… and one was breaking; slowly but surely, pieces were falling away, lost to the battle and crushed underfoot as Hyde worked his way back up.

Henry had only been able to steal back control when he had hurt Skinner because his guilt had overthrown Edward's thirst for carnage. His emotions had won over the monster… but now the only one he felt was loss. And Hyde was winning over that as well… he could taste his victory. Henry could barely hear the words in the triumphant voice anymore; they were losing coherence to him, though a growl of some sort rumbled in his throat.

His eyes glinted with some suppressed malice, and he ensured to aim that at the tripods.

They wanted a fight; Hyde wanted carnage… it seemed only fair to comply to both.

In his mind, a small voice whispered to him in a melancholy fashion, and he could do nothing but sigh in agreement.

_It will be the last thing you do…_

* * *

"Nemo was right. They'll cross soon."

Mina looked to Bond, and frowned. She was no match for these creations; that had been proven on that field where Tom had been forced to risk his life to come help her. She regretted flying off as she had, but they had destroyed it at least. But now she was at a loss. She didn't understand how one hybrid created by Moreau, contained in such a small crate, could win them this war… even give them an upper hand. It was impossible.

Glancing around her, her companions seemed to be succumbing to the same realisations… save for Dr. Jekyll. There was a resolve in his eyes that made her tremble for a moment. She did not like that expression on his weary features all of a sudden; it was most unlike the man she had come to admire and respect. Something was wrong with him.

"Why haven't they already?" Tom inquired in confusion, looking left and right with his gun slung over his shoulder.

"Th-they must think we have artillery here, even though we _haven't_." Bond furrowed his brow, and shrugged his broad shoulders under his ugly jacket. "They_burned_ it all. Soon they'll realise that."

"Yes," Nemo agreed darkly with his shadowed eyes never leaving their dilemma. "Then they will cross. We cannot stop them…"

"Speak for yourself."

All eyes turned to Henry Jekyll, who blinked slowly, and looked to Nemo in such a way that made Mina's blood run colder than it already was. She frowned… Hyde… she could _hear_ him in the voice coming from the doctor's mouth.

_Oh no…_

It was what he said next that confirmed her fears; "I'll bet _I_ could give them a surprise or two."

"Jekyll?"

Slowly but methodically, the man shook his head in Tom's direction. The younger man's misery at this apparent revelation was far from concealed. The _League_ around Mina realised what was happening to their friend… he was being pulled under, and in his own body. He was losing… and so very fast.

"Hyde…?" Tom lowered his rifle, almost as if in respect of the fact that Jekyll was disappearing.

A slight nod shifted the head that belonged to the physician, and the spy sighed.

"You can't be serious…" Quatermain said sceptically. They all knew what the monster within planned to do; he wished to face the Martians himself.

"Why _not_? I mean… what are they?" A wry smirk turned up one side of the mouth as he continued lightly, "It's just a copper boiler on stilts."

Mina couldn't help a sad smile at that.

"And inside _that_, there's just a useless, wheezing _blancmange_."

"Edward…" Mina began, and noticed all eyes turned to her as she stepped just a fraction closer to him. "Anything setting foot in their sight-line will be _incinerated_."

"And that's supposed to put me off, is it?"

Now there was something so subtly different about that voice… it was more like the one she had come to know and enjoy hearing from day to day at the breakfast table and in idle conversation. Henry was fighting… Jekyll was battling Hyde for a few last words, perhaps.

"Look," Bond imparted, "thinking about it, what _alternatives_ do we have? Anything to hold the bridge."

Mina growled very discreetly at the man's suggestive tone.

"That's right," Jekyll replied. "If they cross, _all_ of us freaks will have outlived our usefulness… 'eh, Bond?" The two voices were blending now, and the terms used suggested that the two identities were fiercely at war within, pounding each other for supremacy.

"Look, we just need to buy time until H-142 is delivered."

"I can't allow this… you'll be _killed_." Mina shook her head. What stood around her now was a family… _her_ family. Her lover, her friends… her dear, dear friends. It was too painful to even _think_ of losing just one, and even to such a selfless cause as this. Tears stung her bright eyes for just a moment before she blinked them back fiercely. Henry was a close friend to her, and had a special place in her heart. He was an admirable man, with such warmth in his persona and compassion that it made her ache to think of him leaving.

"Yes… I suppose I shall," he agreed nevertheless. "And ending up looking rather _noble_, when all I really want is to slaughter something, 'eh?" First Jekyll, then Hyde… it was so hard to tell them apart if one didn't focus on the tones.

Mina's frown deepened… she couldn't change his mind.

Henry Jekyll was going to leave.

* * *

Henry was struggling… he could feel himself fading to the brute's consciousness, and the insult of having it happen in his own body was almost more than he could bear as he stepped closer to the woman who was so affectionately trying to dissuade him.

There had always been a yearning within him to ask something of Mina Harker… but he had never had the nerve. Now, he saw her standing near to Tom Sawyer, and knew that something had transpired between them to make them close… lovers, even. But that did not stop him; if he did not do this one small thing, he would never forgive himself.

"Mrs. Harker," he began quite timidly, before he looked into those clear blue eyes that had never once looked on him as an unworthy man, "before I go… would you allow me the honour of a kiss?"

Though she did not show it, he knew her to be taken aback… Agent Sawyer was admirably silent just behind her to her right, but he looked to the vampire sympathetically almost. Pain flashed in Mina's eyes, and for a moment, he thought he had offended her; he expected her to refuse.

"Oh… o-of course." It was so unlike Mina to falter in her words. "Of course I would."

Henry sighed, and removed his pocket watch from his jacket, holding it steadily in one hand as he stood before her. "Thank you," he whispered, before he leaned to her, and they brushed lips tenderly, sharing a brief kiss that meant so much to the doctor, even as he pulled away, a sad smile on his face. He took his hands in hers, and sighed, defeated. "I was right then, about this world. Always I knew that heaven would be the cruellest of places… farewell, my perfect Mina."

With that, he took his hands from hers, turned his face from her eyes shining with tears, and began to walk away from the _League_, his form shifting so uneventfully that it seemed… final.

Jekyll vanished in a mere whisper… and Hyde whistled a tune as he moved.

* * *

"Mina…"

Tom touched a hand to Mina's back, frowning deeper than anyone had seen before, even as the vampire drew in a shuddering breath. She did not take her eyes from the retreating form. "It's all right, Tom."

Hyde moved onto the bridge as she opened her hands, looking down at the battered but treasured pocket watch that had been deposited there. She smiled sorrowfully with tears in her eyes, gazing up to see her brave friend walking away for the last time.

"I'm all right."


	16. Crash and Burn

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the wait after the last chapter; especially considering where I left you off _::cringe::_ I didn't mean to do that, but I couldn't bring myself to force out this helping. It's an important one, and I didn't want to ruin it. I ask only one thing as you read this… don't kill me…

As with **Envenom**, I'm too lazy to do shoutouts for this chapter, but thank you all for the reviews for the last chapter! You know I love you for them

**This chapter receives a high rating for language, content and violence. You have been warned!**

* * *

Edward Hyde shook the remains of the shredded shirt from his form, and walked jubilantly away from the _League of Extraordinary Gentlemen_, whistling as he went, the heels of his shoes clicking on the bridge, almost as if they were tapping out a beat for him.

Ah, it felt so good to be without that whelp, Henry; his mind was blissfully free of the nagging presence of such a weak and frail little man. One minute he had been fighting for supremacy… and the next minute it had been his; the victory had been so simple that he almost felt cheated. Of course, one could not call victory simple when it had been years in the making. Henry Jekyll's guilt had chased him from London to Paris, and drove him to join the _League_.

But it was just the freedom that made him want to _sing_! Oh, how he wanted to let loose with a jolly tune. And the promise of imminent carnage too! He was surely being spoilt. With a low and throaty chuckle, he looked up at the looming and tottering tripods. There were three of them making their way steadily and somewhat shakily onto the bridge, like babies just finding their legs. Edward found their bumbling amusing, and he even did begin to sing then, a little ditty Henry had once heard in a gathering, and one that Hyde had forever since been amazingly fond of. It spoke of dancing and frolic, and he just felt so liberated to sing it, even though he knew these machines to be dangerous.

What did it matter to him that they were dangerous? Were he not singing, he would have scoffed. It was a ridiculous notion, for Edward Hyde to be frightened of such a concept; death did not intimidate him. Many times he had felt the lingering, icy presence of Death himself, and laughed.

The lead tripod's tentacles flailed like those of a squid below it, and its green glowing face seemed to watch him as he practically trotted towards them, singing as he went.

"_You should see me dance the polka_," he cheerfully continued, "_you should see me cover the ground._"

Smoke poured from the other side of the bridge, almost like a hazy screen. Oddly, he felt himself pressed to keep these bastards from the undamaged side of London; where everyone was watching. It was like having an audience! Suddenly, he felt positively jubilant, though he knew his doom awaited him, maw open and teeth flashing.

"_You should see my coat tails flying…_"

Even as he stood there – no matter how amusing it must have appeared to the observers – he danced a little, continuing his song as he did so, "_… As I jump my partner round."_

With a cumbersome spin, he waved his arms. "_When the band commences playing…_"

There was a mechanical whir, and a suspended orb on a cable came out from the body of the tripod, blinking at him almost curiously. It didn't hinder his gaiety, and he just kept on going.

"_… My feet begin to go…_"

Edward almost wished he had a cane to add to his routine. "_… For a rollicking romping polka is the jolliest fun…_"

A glow sparked up around Edward as he made to sing the next line; "_… I–_"

That was when the flames started on his body, and he looked at his hands, even as his shoes melted from below him. He heard the roar; felt the heat… and then collapsed to the ground.

* * *

Nemo hung his head slightly, even as Mrs. Harker moved to lunge forward. Sawyer grabbed her immediately about the arms, and pulled her back to him, embracing her tightly as she mumbled angrily and desperately into his shoulder. She even pounded her fist on him once, and though the young American winced, he did not cast her away, simply stroked one hand over her hair, before loosening his grip on her gently.

"Oh god… oh god, it got 'im." Skinner shook his head back and forth, despair lacing his voice. "The heat-device got 'im."

Quatermain sighed, his rifle lowering to his side. He held one in each hand; Sawyer's in his left and his own in his right.

"Then we're dead," Bond mumbled, dabbing at his brow with his handkerchief. "They won't have H-142 ready yet…"

Nemo watched and heard all this, dark eyes filled with sorrow; the only clue to his misery regarding the situation. Over the course of their first mission, the Indian man had come to deeply respect the doctor, and even his brutish alter ego to a degree. Though recently, when Hyde had gotten free of his prison within Jekyll, he had irritated and angered Nemo… he now wished they had tried harder to talk the man out of going.

One of their number had returned… only for them to lose another.

* * *

A heap smouldered in the middle of the bridge, a charred form, cinders still cooling around the bulk… before a gleaming eye opened… blinked once, and then narrowed in fury. With a growl, the heap stumbled to its knees, pieces of dead skin crumbling to the ground almost like ash. The clothes were completely gone, but the form was there… there was muscle and sinew, and flesh and bone, no matter how bruised, burned and battered.

And it was furious.

"Wh-why you unspeakable _rotter_." It snarled angrily, shaking itself once before scrambling to its feet. Either the tripod did not see it, or it did not care enough for this wounded creature to bother with striking again. "That bloody _hurt_."

With a short roar, Edward Hyde threw himself forward, practically into a gallop, limbs pounding the bridge as he barrelled towards his target. "That bloody hurt, you mincing three-legged…" He cut himself short with a raging bellow, the tripod's heat eye blinking at him, before he slammed like a steam train into one of the legs, making it bend and creak under the pressure.

Grunting, Edward latched on, aching all over but too furious to notice the agony he knew deep in his mind he should be feeling. With a wry laugh, he said, "Yes, that's right." He looked up at the glowing eye as it gazed down amazedly at him. "Shoot me _again_, you little shit. Without blowing your own _foot_ off."

Laughing again, he continued, "You're in _trouble_ now, aren't you?"

The tripod shifted slightly, but he clung on as if his life depended on it… which, in fact, it did. "I mean… _urngh_… I mean, I'm no _engineer_, and correct me if I'm mistaken, but…" He grunted loudly as he gripped tighter; the tripod wiggling again, as if it were trying to shake him loose. "… But don't you have rather a _design_ flaw in these three-legged-things?" Hugging himself close to the limb as a stream of smoke poured from a crack he had caused, he pressed on, "Now, don't get me wrong: God created a lot of useless, stupid-looking creatures on _this_ world too, but he didn't…" He paused to latch tighter, growling again. "… He didn't see fit to make any of them three-_legged_."

His small, beady eyes looked up into the glowing orb. "Why was that, do you think?"

Whether or not the thing could understand him was not his concern, even as he released the leg long enough to draw back with one mighty fist, and then pound it forward again with the force of a launched anvil. His knuckles smashed into the already-weakened leg, and crumpled it like a frail twig beneath the strength, even as Edward roared out a triumphant laugh. The tripod caved in on itself, the one leg's failure ruining the stability and causing a complete collapse. Metal creaked and screamed as it fell; slamming to the ground like the meteor's that had carried its driver to this planet.

As the debris settled, Hyde stomped forward, chuckling dryly, hearing the small whimpers of the ugly Martian from within. Finding a portal in the large head, he wiped it with one charred hand, and peered, grinning, inside. He saw the hideous creation looking at him with wide, black eyes like a spider, and heard it squeal.

Picking up where he had left off, he dug his hands into the weakened metal; "Because it you _can't_, this next bit will come as something of a _surprise_, I'm afraid." And with a groan and a grunt, he heaved, even as more tripods clanged towards him, unnoticed by the gloating alter-ego.

With all his might he pulled and heaved, until the entire panel broke away, and he bellowed in triumph, wondering if the Londoners and the army were enjoying the show. Inside, with all its controls and cogs, wheels and levers, sat the Martian… upside down. Edward laughed, but extended a hand as if to greet the creature.

"Hello, old chap." He grinned, blackened, rotting teeth showing in a fierce, mocking display. "Hello. Welcome to _England_."

And with that, he grabbed the alien's face, and tore it in half, even as it screeched in agony. In his distraction of destroying – if you could call it that; some would call it devouring – the Martian, he failed to notice the three other tripods coming up behind him, watching the horrific and brutal display of carnage upon one of their kind. Hyde was lost in his own enjoyment of the victory, but he did hear the whine.

_Fun while it lasted…_

That was the last Edward Hyde remembered before flames shot up all around him, white-hot and intense, scorching everything between the three heat-devices, and obliterating the ruined tripod.

* * *

"Oh _no_…"

She made to start off again, bats screeching in the air nearby as she subconsciously summoned them, hoping Hyde could survive long enough for her to reach him, and give him aide.

But before she could even move, hands were taking a fierce hold of her, and dragging her back. She turned, seeing Tom looking to her. "Mina… no… come on." She fought him, but he wouldn't let go, and she screwed up her face in sorrow, even as she collapsed into his arms in defeat. The bats faded and were gone…

"We… we cannot know what feelings our enemies have…" Nemo began in a quiet voice of horrified awe as the flames crackled and singed. "… But we may be certain; at least, that Hyde taught them _terror_." And with that, he muttered to himself in his native language. Skinner's frown was deep and melancholy, and he took his trilby from his head, perhaps in a sign of respect.

Allan Quatermain looked to his fellow _League_ members, seeing the loss in them all, and he sighed wearily, patting Tom lightly on the back. There were tears in the young man's bright eyes as he embraced the vampire, one hand on the rear of her head as she lay silently against him. There was no noise from her at all, and she barely moved.

Bond wiped his handkerchief over his face once more as he made an observation, eyes wide and amazed. "And the fallen tripod is blocking the _bridge_! We've got them _trapped_!"

Mina heard all of these words, and simply growled quietly, turning her head out of Tom's shoulder to glare fiercely at Bond. If she was going to blame anyone for their friend's death… she would blame him. Without having to be asked, Tom let go of her, perhaps realising that she now knew it useless to try and fly to help Hyde… Hyde was gone. _Jekyll_ was gone. He was _gone_… she couldn't help him now.

"But at what cost…?" she hissed icily, noticing Bond cowered under her gaze. She was tempted to drive her torment further, growling quietly, but thought better of it; now was not the time. She had to keep her head.

That was when the silence was broken by Tom's cry of pain.

**_To Be Continued..._**


	17. Playing With Lightning

**Author's Note:** Whee! This chapter was pretty smooth to get out o.O Don't know why, but it just wouldn't stop, hence the… continuation of it XD It just won't stop! Mwahahahah! Ahem, yes… enjoy?

**Marcus Lazarus:** Hyde was a 'good' guy, yes, and Jekyll even more so, but just think of it this way… he died a hero. As for Sawyer… guess this chapter will enlighten you on that issue ;)

**Ten Mara:** I'm glad you're enjoying the suspense XD I do love writing it, heh. And the fact that you find it effective is more of a relief and comfort than you know, heh. To find out what happens/happened to Tom… ;) You'll see.

**LotRseer3350:** What happened to Tom? You'll see XD Very soon as well. Kill Nemo? Hehehehe; not a fan? XD Sorry for keeping you waiting, heh.

**Drakena:** Sorry to upset you regarding Jekyll… but… yeah; I apologise, but he went out – no pun intended whatsoever! – in a blaze of glory. As for the Marvel beatings… best take a lookie at the chapter; you may or may not be satisfied XD

**Wind-Sorceress-Pluto:** Heh, you'll find out soon enough! Glad you liked.

**_Slight_**** warning on this one too XD Just so you know.**

* * *

Thomas Marvel practically skipped away, suppressing his manic little giggle as he watched the American reel from the blow, gasping at the burning pain in his back. The Scotsman and the woman turned to him both at once, the latter taking hold of him as she cried his name. The blonde head had dropped forward as he panted, wincing, grabbing a hold of her coat to steady himself from the attack.

Though he knew he was somewhat useless without a weapon, it was probably for the best that he no longer held it. After all, if he were still holding the knife, he would be visible, to some degree… and he couldn't have that.

So he simply let a mad grin spread across his face as he watched, staring at the blade sticking out of Sawyer's back and wishing he could laugh… they had foiled the tripods for now… but they would not foil _him_. He would have his vengeance!

* * *

"Oh god, Tom… Tom, stay still!" Mina's voice burned into his brain and made him fight to stay upright, though his right leg was fighting him fiercely, and his harsh breathing was all he could hear for a minute. He could feel the blade sticking out of him, and he struggled to register just where.

"Hold still, Sawyer," Quatermain said, laying a hand against him. "Nemo! It's that bastard, Marvel! Watch yourself."

_Marvel… dammit… oh, dammit… not now…_

He could feel the hunter's hand on his back near to the blade… it was his shoulder. It was just to the bottom of his left shoulder. To his immediate recollection, there were no vital organs there, but he knew the lungs to be in that vicinity; there was still a risk. "Just pull it out," he mumbled, and when there was no immediate reaction, he practically shouted, "Just do it!"

And with a jerk, Quatermain wrenched the blade free, eliciting a loud cry from Tom, even as one knee _did_ give out on him. Mina braced him as he fell, keeping him on his knees at least. She stroked his face with one hand, keeping her mind focused on anything but the blood, he knew. The last thing he wanted was for her appetite to come into play now, when he was finding it hard to focus.

_Don't you dare pass out now. You've been shot before; you've had worse. Stay **awake**._

With a growl, he pulled in a deep, heavy breath, closing his eyes to force away the dancing colours. "Where is he?" he panted to Mina, who was stroking rebellious bangs from his brow.

"He… I can smell him… but only just. The open air; all these scents. I cannot focus."

"It's all right…" he whispered to her as Quatermain came down behind him, motioning for Mina to shrug his jacket off him. Tom felt her move to obey, and he helped as much as he could. It burned so badly, but he knew he had to stay awake. If Marvel tried to strike Mina, he could at least give her some kind of warning. So it was that he forced his strained eyes open, and watched the area behind her, looking for anything similar to what he'd observed with Skinner.

The invisible thief was turning left and right, one arm spread out slightly to his side, the other in his sling. He felt vulnerable; out in the open and exposed. Even as Tom watched hazily, he saw Skinner throw his trilby onto a crate and snatch Bond's handkerchief from his grasp, which he proceeded to rub furiously over his face. Using a puddle for assistance, he soon had the greasepaint off his visage. His coat dropped to the ground, and finally, the sling fell like a heavy feather. Skinner was gone.

Tom shuddered as he felt heat against his back; he was bleeding, he knew, and Quatermain was trying to stop that.

"Stay with me, lad; keep your eyes open. That's it."

Never had London seemed so cold as it did just then. Tom suddenly found himself watching the tripods trying to get across the bridge, even though Hyde's valiant and selfless efforts had blocked them. He swallowed the foul taste in his throat with a grimace, and silently thanked the large alter ego… because of Hyde, the tripods were stuck.

But so was the _League_ right now… they were stuck, trapped in the proverbial corner with an invisible wolf at the door.

Tom closed his eyes for a moment, but when he opened them, he saw a blade… a bloodied blade; the blade that _had_ been sticking out of _his_ back.

"Mina!" he practically bellowed, as loudly as he could, and with the reflexes of a prepared feline, the vampire whirled with a snarl, and struck out. Tom heard the contact, and saw the blade skitter to the floor. Nemo grasped it up quickly, holding it tightly in his hand, before drawing out his sword.

Tom groaned quietly, even as Mina's hand stroked through his hair. He felt her press a kiss to his brow, perhaps in gratitude as she whispered to him, "Fight it, Tom. Stay with us. You'll be all right."

He nodded wearily, placing his right hand down on the ground as Quatermain worked on stopping the bleeding.

* * *

Marvel cursed quietly beneath his breath, scowling at the brat. Why wouldn't he die?

_I missed. Should have aimed nearer the middle. I'll have another chance; I'll have another go._

But the pirate had his knife. With a glare, he looked around.

Wait… where had the thief gone?

_No… no, no, **no**! This isn't fair. He's meant to **die**!_

Breathing raggedly through rage, he focused as much as he could, looking around to try and find any sign of Skinner. The thief wouldn't steal his victory from him… not if he had anything to say about it.

* * *

Skinner saw everything around him as if he were dreaming, panting slightly out of fear, shock and dismay. Sawyer looked badly hurt, pale and weak, and even as he looked over at the American, his body slumped down into Mina's arms, accompanied by the twin declarations of his name from the woman and Quatermain. He'd lapsed into unconsciousness.

_Four against one…_

Shaking his head, he tried to find any sign of Marvel nearby; a disturbance of the ground or a ripple in a puddle… a rising of an object. Anything… he'd take anything he could get, if only he could strike back. He hated feeling useless, and though his arm throbbed badly from being broken, he wanted nothing more than to pound Marvel's head in with his own two hands.

If he didn't know it would risk his own position, he would have called out to the other man… but then an idea flashed through his mind like a lightning strike. Moving stealthily and silently, he crouched with a whisper down next to Mina, "Don't move or show I'm here, but I need your help. I know your worried about Sawyer, but let Quatermain take care of him… I _need_ you now." He saw her breathe in deeply; a sign that she heard him. "Help me _find_ him." He held back from touching her at all for encouragement, for fear of disturbing her coat; showing Marvel where he was.

Mina drew in another deep breath, and after touching her hand to Sawyer's face one more time, stood calmly to her feet. She turned away from her fallen lover, and scanned the vicinity. Skinner shuddered lightly as her eyes flooded a vibrant scarlet, and he saw her hair lift and curl slightly.

_Come on you son of a bitch… show yourself._

* * *

Marvel nearly growled as he saw the vampire stand and look around. She was searching for him. Skinner… that meant Skinner had spoken to her. But if he moved, she would hear him, wouldn't she? Skinner had to still be near to her, didn't he?

He had to get the vampire out of the running. If he knocked her away or down, even if just for a moment, he could get an advantage; maybe he could attack the Scotsman before he helped the American too much. All he wanted was to kill Skinner… and perhaps watch that brat die slowly as his life bled out of him. He had a horrible feeling he'd even missed the lungs, but a wound was good enough, so long as he suffered.

* * *

Mina saw everything through a delicate red haze, sensitive and enhanced. She could hear the heartbeats of everyone around her, strong and somewhat racing… save for Tom's; his was marginally weaker and distracted her for only a moment. She had to concentrate; if she lost her focus, Marvel could escape, and she would not have him running free. This would be the second time he had attacked Tom, and she would not abide it. Marvel had tried to frame Skinner… she would not allow any of this, and she would see him put down.

Blinking slowly, as if in a hypnotised daze, she turned her head slightly… and then froze.

_There_!

A vague impression of a form wavered about ten feet in front of her, and she could make out details, such as a head, a shifting arm, and a moving leg. It was him… it was Marvel. He was standing there before her, watching her in return.

She growled quietly, thinking what she should do. She smiled eerily, perhaps to speak silently to Marvel: 'I can see you'.

* * *

Marvel froze, his eyes widening. She was looking right _at_ him! She was _smiling_ at him! He could see the fangs in her mouth now, the delighted glint of triumph in her reddened eyes. She could see him, and he almost imagined he could read her mind then. She would attack him… the vampire would fly at him and grab him; expose his position.

He needed a weapon… he needed _any_ weapon.

His eyes landed on the Indian, not five feet away from him, and a maniacal glint filled his wide, crazy eyes. He could grab it… he'd have time.

Even as the vampire gave a snarl and lunged, he leapt, hand grasping out.

* * *

Nemo felt something tug at his arm, in which he was holding the bloodied knife, and gave a growl. Mina had lifted into the air and was soaring towards what he guessed was their villain.

Bringing his other arm around, he lashed out with his sword, and heard a wail of agony as the grip fell, tugged, from his arm. In the process, the knife fell, only to lift from the ground shakily and turn, even as Mina came up right in front of him. Her skirts billowed like otherworldly wings, and her face was positively furious; eyes red and fangs ready to bite. Her hair flew around her face like a living veil, and Nemo drew back, hoping she would see the threat, even as a puddle just to his right splashed.

Skinner…

* * *

He would have given a war-cry if it wouldn't have ruined the element of surprise, and as Mina took a hold of something invisible, her hand grasping in such a manner that suggested a throat, he saw the glint of a blade.

"No!" he wailed, and threw himself down and along the ground, reaching up and out, grabbing the knife and tearing it from the hand. He heard the frustrated scream of madness as the weapon left Marvel's hand, and Skinner threw himself upright as best he could. Mina growled in Marvel's invisible face, and bore her fangs again, ready to bite.

"Mina, don't!" he hissed, and he saw the understanding in her red eyes, before he reached back with the blade – hoping his aim wouldn't fail him – and brought it round in a savage arc. Even as Skinner gave a ragged yell, he felt the blade imbed in something solid… and heard a choked gasp. Hand still on the grip of the knife; he felt something jerk on the other end as a struggled breath sounded in the air.

Everything seemed to quieten, and Mina calmed, her hair and eyes returning to normal as her fangs retracted. She blinked, and her hand shook where she grasped Marvel. She kept hold, for fear of losing him perhaps.

Skinner looked to the blade, and before his very eyes, blood started to seep. It was faint at first, but slowly – and surely – it became vivid and definite. The breathing was wheezed and failing… Marvel was dying.

* * *

"No…" Marvel shook his head very slowly, feeling blood pouring from his back around the blade that had found his heart. He felt it inside of him, piercing and wounding. He blinked briskly and blurrily, looking from the vampire to the few stray droplets that hovered next to him. Skinner… the thief had stabbed him; the thief had killed him.

"This… isn't how it's supposed to be."

With that, and one final gasp for breath, he felt his heart stop… and remembered nothing more.

* * *

The blood poured like a small river now, around the blade and onto Skinner's still-gripping hand. He recoiled, even as he saw the heart he had punctured, withered and dead in the chest which came into manifestation like a bud unfolding. Muscle, tissue, organs and bone coming into focus. Finally the veins and blood and skin could be seen. Skinner saw Marvel's skull and head finish up the process as he stumbled backwards, propping himself up on a crate as the other man's dead form came into full view. Mina let go of him, and he fell lifelessly to the ground with a dull thud. It was only then that the thief noticed Marvel was missing an arm… his right arm had been cut off halfway between the wrist and the elbow… the detached piece was lying not far from Nemo's boots.

Everyone stared at the body for a few silent and heavy moments, before Quatermain seemed to remember what he had been doing.

* * *

Allan cursed quietly, relieved that the maniac was dead, but still worried about Sawyer, whose head moved just a fraction, as if the young man was regaining some form of consciousness. Mina Harker swept down to her knees next to Sawyer, and stroked hair from his eyes as they opened slowly.

Allan busied himself with checking the wound; the bleeding had slowed considerably now, and stopping steadily but certainly. Sawyer would survive, but he would need treatment. Allan's heart felt heavy as he remembered Jekyll… their doctor was gone, yes, but more than that, they had lost a friend.

* * *

Mina smiled down at Tom as he looked up at her. She bowed her head over, and kissed him lightly atop his head as he pulled in a deep breath. The smell of blood was not so pungent now; his wound was not fatal. He would survive, and for that, she was overwhelmingly glad.

"What happened?" Tom mumbled groggily, giving a tiny wince as Quatermain applied pressure to his injury again, for good measure.

"Marvel is dead. Mr. Skinner has killed him," she revealed. Quatermain nodded to her and, taking the subtle hint, she motioned to Tom that she needed to move him. Carefully, she helped him into a sitting position, so the hunter could see and dress the wound better. He had removed the heavy sash from around his neck, and made about applying it to the injury; apparently he had stopped the bleeding.

"Are you all right?"

Tom nodded, but before he could say anything, there came a low boom from down the river. All heads turned to follow the noise, and Mina's delicate brow furrowed.

"What was that report from down river? It sounded like _guns_…" Nemo's dark eyes had narrowed in confusion, even as he slipped his sword into its scabbard once again.

"It's the artillery position at Westminster," Bond replied with a slight pant, looking around in a light daze before patting his breast pocket in his jacket. A look of relief came over his face before he dug around inside for something. "They're delivering H-142 to South London."

"What… in an _artillery_ shell?" Mina looked from Tom, to Quatermain, and then back to Bond all in one fluidic – albeit confused – motion. "B-but isn't it one of Moreau's _hybrids_?"

As she turned her eyes over the river, she saw the shell careening down towards the mass of tripods and buildings.

"Oh, yes. Yes, it's a hybrid all right." Bond had removed his cigarettes from his jacket with a light sigh. "Anthrax and streptococcus, if I remember correctly."

A heavy, morbid silence came over the _League_, even as Bond removed a cigarette from his case, and the shell slammed into London on the other side of the bridge in a mighty cloud.

Mina trembled, looking back to Quatermain and Tom. The two men wore horrified expressions, but the younger looked traumatised; whether it was from the injury or the revelation, she did not know, but she subconsciously stroked one side of his face. Perhaps it was to comfort him… but she needed to comfort herself at the same time, and contact with the American helped. Anthrax and streptococcus… it couldn't be.

_Oh god… what have we done?_


	18. A Grim Victory

**Author's Note:** This is a rather small – as in very – chapter, but it is, sadly, the penultimate. The next one will be the last; the conclusion of this story :(

**Sawyer Fan:** Heh, nope, you didn't miss a chapter; remember Tom crying out in pain at the end of 16? Insane jealousy… I like XD And for the most part, I think he just found him an annoyance. Thank you!

**Marcus Lazarus:** Wow, quite an insult for Marvel there… hehehehe. Scary that you and **Raven Silvers** started your reviews _exactly _the same way… heh.

**Raven Silvers:** Déjà vu with your first line there XD Long live Skinner! Thanks, buddy!

**LotRseer3350:** The biological weapon is lifted directly from the graphic novel, so, in the _LXG_-verse, the answer to your question would be yes :) Good thing Marvel missed badly, 'eh? His aim sucks as bad as mine ;) XD

**queerquail:** More to worry about, yup; the worrying never stops! Heheheh. Hero!Skinner, yay! Glad you liked Marvel's crazy thoughts…

**Ten Mara:** Hmm… good point… XD

**Drakena:** o.O Having fun with that urn? Don't worry; they won't forget about Henry, and he'll get a memorial.

So here you go; have a new chapter. Hope you like :)

* * *

"A hybrid _disease_? What is this fool talking about?" Nemo looked positively perplexed, but somewhat livid as well, he knew. He looked to his fellow _League_ members in confusion, to try and understand. Skinner was reclaiming his sling at least, and Quatermain – apparently having dressed Sawyer's wound as much as he could – helped the thief don it properly.

"The place we visited," the hunter began darkly, understanding lacing his tone, "there were _hybrids_. But we didn't know…"

"Bond, there must still be _people_ in London!" Mina declared furiously, reluctant to move from beside the agent. Nemo was staring straight at the bureaucrat in anger and disgust; he was actually wishing Mrs. Harker would move, and punish this filthy English pig… if he understood correctly, then they had just literally wiped out South London's population with a man-made virus. Never had Nemo felt so sick to his stomach.

"Officially, the Martians died of the common _cold_." Bond struck a match and lit his cigarette almost triumphantly if not nonchalantly. "Any _humans_ died of _Martians_."

There was a sound from Nemo's left, and in his fury-clouded mind, he registered it as Sawyer either gagging or actually being sick. He didn't even turn his head to find out, pointing a finger accusingly at the rotund man before him, and declaring in a snarl, "England has _disease bombs?_" His eyes flashed with pure, unadulterated rage, and he bared his teeth before continuing, "And you have made me party to their _use?_"

* * *

Tom had woken up considerably now, and as he sat, doubled over to the side on the floor, shaking and nauseous, he felt Mina's hand on the back of his head. He cursed quietly under his breath, drawing in a shaky mouthful of oxygen before lifting his face to look at what was going on. He half expected to see Nemo with his sword withdrawn, but thankfully, it hadn't gotten that far.

"You are a _dog_!" Nemo snapped in Bond's face with enough venom to strike down a cobra. "I _resign_ from this _League_ of yours!"

"It doesn't matter." Bond shrugged indifferently, blowing a circle of smoke up into the air. "We've _won_. And even without you, sir, there are still four." There was a smug little smile on that face, and Tom didn't know whether to be sick, or walk up to him and punch it right off his features.

Even as Nemo turned to leave, Quatermain caught up to him, and took him by the arm. "Nemo, listen to me. I _swear_ we knew nothing of this horror. We were used, just like you." Never breaking his gaze from the captain's face, he added, "Trust me, as you have before."

Nemo stared straight into Quatermain's dark eyes, and even as Mina helped Tom to his feet, Skinner came over beside them. There was some sort of silent agreement between the two oldest men, and Tom swallowed dryly.

Bond watched all of this impatiently, and Tom summoned his voice, speaking with as much fire and confidence as he could muster, "I'm out."

The round man looked to the wounded American, furrowing his brow. "Excuse me?"

"I quit… I'm with Nemo."

"As am I." Mina lifted her chin in defiance, a flicker of red shown in her eyes for just an instant.

"And me." Quatermain puffed out his chest angrily, scowling at Bond.

A duster and trilby was the only other sign of Skinner save for his sling, and after only a moment, he said, "Me too."

Bond looked from defiant face to defiant face, looking for any sign of alteration in their decision, but when he didn't find any, he huffed quietly, grinding his cigarette into the ground with his heel. "Very well. As I said… it does not matter. We've won, after all, and all we need do now is wait. Our use for you is through." With a mocking little wave of the hand, he turned, saying simply, "I bid you all farewell."

"Never seek us again," Nemo snarled after the large man as he walked away.

Tom leaned against Mina, who supported him with her own body and her arm, holding him up gently and making sure to avoid his injury. "Jesus… why didn't we realise? The sick… _damn_ them."

"We were used," Mina said grimly, looking briefly to Tom, and then to the rest of the wounded _League_. "And we fell for their scheme. Never have I been more ashamed of this country than I am now."

"I was fool enough to have faith…" Nemo shook his head, sighing angrily with hatred in his eyes. "But it has been destroyed once more." Looking to the others, he let his shoulders sag somewhat, before saying, "Come; we should board my Lady. I will not even abide this _soil_ beneath my feet any longer."

Tom frowned; looking across the river and hearing the flames eat the buildings away at the foundations. One of the tripods, even as he watched it, wavered and wobbled. As he stared, one of its legs failed it, and it teetered to the side, as if limp. With a crash of metal and machinery, it fell completely to the ground. He didn't even have the heart to show the others, though he knew Mina had seen it as well. It was a victory, yes, but at a terrible, _terrible_ price.

"Come on, Tom," Mina urged quietly, looking to him miserably. He nodded, and together, the five remaining members of the _League_ limped towards the Nautilus.

"As soon as this weed is cleared, we will leave, but until then, I am afraid we must remain…" Nemo stood at the side of the dock as they boarded the vessel via the conning tower.

Tom, for one, knew that leaving England couldn't come quick enough. After the recent revelation, it would be a relief to get as far away from this country as swiftly as possible.

But where would they go? And what would they do now?

They were back where they had started again, with no real power; puppets in a terrible game.


	19. Godspeed

**Author's Note:** This is it… this is the end; the last chapter. It was actually very hard to write, but I managed to get myself to sit down and do it all in one part. Love it or hate it… thank you all for sticking with me through the story, and thank you for all the reviews, encouragement and kind words. I appreciate all of it, and I'm very glad you seemed to like it. Sad to see this story go, seeing as how I had a lot of fun with it, but it was difficult, and I'm just happy I could finish it at all. Thanks again, and I hope you like the last chapter.

**Marcus Lazarus:** Thanks very much for all your advice and reviews; meant a lot to me. Very glad you enjoyed the previous – short – chapter. I know that one had you worried, so I'm happy I could satisfy.

**Ten Mara:** You know what, you're right XD Bet Tom won't ever gripe about wearing the holster harness again, heheheh. Hope you like this last chapter, and thanks for the reviews along the way.

**The Sabbit:** Heheh, skewered Bond XD What an amusing mental image. I hope you like this last chapter, and thanks again!

**Drakena:** He is indeed a jerk, which is why I was so glad to get him out of the story. Thanks for all your reviews, and for your art for this story! (Anyone who hasn't seen it/would like to see it, check out my site for a hybrid picture featuring Mina, Quatermain and Sawyer) Appreciate it.

**Alyssa Halliwell:** Glad you liked the relationship. And the horse! XD Had to get that in there… it was actually inspired by a scene in _The Mummy_… ahem. Hope you like the last chapter, and thanks very much!

And now for the final chapter of **LXG2: Above & Beyond…**

* * *

The infirmary aboard the Nautilus had never seemed so solemn or… wrong, before. No one had to wonder what was missing as they sat or stood in various places around the room, hearing the work from up above and all around the hull as the final arms of weed were detangled from the mighty vessel. There was a quiet melancholy atmosphere that had settled into everyone, and weights were pushing down inside of them all. The loss wouldn't wear off for a while; they knew… not that anyone had expected it to after such a blow.

They had lost Jekyll… and for what?

Allan watched Nemo's doctor apply the dressing to Sawyer's wound from not far away, just behind the bed, as if he were looking out for the young spy. That was what it was though; watching out for him, probably when he didn't need it. He was capable… but he _had_ just been stabbed. Allan couldn't help but be protective. It was in his nature, especially after losing a son to his own carelessness. Sighing, he tried not to wonder about the marks he'd seen on Sawyer's other shoulder; the young man had removed his shirt so the doctor could tend to him better, and Allan had noticed them then… they looked suspiciously like bite marks. Glancing to Mina Harker, he saw the slight change in her demeanour, which could very well have been attributed to Jekyll's heroism and subsequent death, and sighed. It was none of his business anyway. She and Sawyer were lovers now… it was their choice what they did and how.

Clearing his mind of thoughts he should never be having, Allan looked around, studying the faces and actions of his fellows. Skinner was sitting silently across the room, trilby turning messily in his one good hand, eyes down. Or at least Allan assumed his eyes were down. There was nothing on the thief's head to show where it was turned; for all the hunter knew, Skinner was looking in their direction, but the movement of the hat told him otherwise… or at least suggested as much. Nemo stood supervising his doctor… very much as if analysing his work; as if he didn't trust him. As odd as that was in and of itself, Nemo looked very downtrodden… upset. There was a dull light in his dark eyes, one that spoke of misery and betrayal. Allan wondered how close Nemo and Jekyll had gotten over his own absence… they had worked together in Mongolia, he knew, but beyond that, he was unaware. Sawyer was silent as well, head hanging a little as the bandage was fixed in place, and the doctor went about sorting a sling for him. The blonde hair was thoroughly dishevelled, but beneath it, Allan knew the eyes were saddened, as would be the expression. Sawyer had admired Jekyll… though he had never said it, Allan had seen it. Sawyer admired everyone in the _League_ in some way, whether it be for their strengths or abilities, or just how they dealt with their own weaknesses. And then there was Mina… the vampiress who had said less than ten words since getting back on the submarine. She was less observant than normal, her hands knitted in front of her, and when Allan looked closer, he could see a small chain hanging from between the fingers. Jekyll's pocket watch. He had given it to her, and Mina seemed afraid to let go of it. Everything about the woman spoke of hurt and sorrow.

Another sigh slipped free of the hunter, and his shoulders slumped somewhat. It would take them some time to get over the betrayal of the government, he knew. A part of him had expected this all along, but he had been afraid to admit it could be true; especially to his companions. It was almost as if he had been lying to himself… trying to tell himself that it couldn't all be bad.

How wrong he had been…

* * *

With the weed cleared, the Nautilus had set out and away from England altogether. For three of the _League_, it was like saying a small goodbye to what had once been home. But no longer… they didn't belong there, they knew. They belonged on the Nautilus, with those who had become like a family. As England grew smaller and smaller on the horizon behind them, Mina rested her hands softly against the railing, eyes staring out at it as it shrank. Never had it felt so final…

But somehow, it felt right. To leave it all behind. They had suffered, and it would hurt too much to go back now. It was wrong. It wasn't home anymore… _this_ was home. This vessel, with these people… it was where she belonged; her place. She had a duty here… a purpose. Never before had she had that; never had it been so important, either.

Around her, the rest of the _League_ stood, the sea breeze catching at hair and clothing, whipping it about accordingly and with a carefree attitude, almost. But there was a melancholy in the air about the five of them, and it was almost tangible; Mina could almost touch it. It was painful, to be up here for this… but it had to be done. If they didn't do this, they would never rest. _She_ would never rest, she knew. And that thought unsettled her greatly.

Summoning her voice, as frail as it seemed all of a sudden, she spoke, "Even in victory, we have lost… again. We have suffered, and one of our number was taken from us… but his sacrifice will never be forgotten."

To her left were Tom and Quatermain… the hunters; the gunmen; the men of action.

To her right were Skinner and Nemo; men of stealth and smarts; the thinkers and tacticians.

There she stood, in the middle… the woman; the supernatural; the vampire. The voice.

"What Henry Jekyll did for us… and for the people of England, will always be remembered. By us… his team mates. His friends… his family." She paused to collect herself, and took the pocket watch from where she had stored it at the belt of her skirt. "Noble and caring, Henry Jekyll was a man of science, and medicine… he lived to protect others, despite the evil shadow that resided within." Staring down at the small trinket in her hands; one that had meant so much to their fallen comrade, she continued, "Edward Hyde was not a truly evil being… he had his demons, like everyone else. To Jekyll… Hyde _was_ a demon; one he could not vanquish. But even in creating such a demon side of himself, Jekyll's intentions were good, and pure of heart. Trying to rid the world of evil, he created one within himself; an experiment gone wrong."

Tom's eyes turned to her very slightly, and the sadness in his expression nearly broke Mina's resolve, but it was the strength she saw underneath that sustained her; he was supporting her… there to help, without speaking or moving.

"But in his failure, he helped to make this team… this _League_, stronger. He gave us science and strength. He gave us something we could not get anywhere else." Her eyes brimmed with tears for a moment, but she inhaled deeply and blinked them back as she looked out over the water. "Henry Jekyll was a valued and loved member of the _League of Extraordinary Gentlemen_…" Another pause as she gathered her resolve, finishing by saying, "And he will be missed."

Thankful she had said her part, she slipped the watch away again. She would keep it, as Jekyll had intended for her to do. It would forever be safe in her care… she would see to that.

At the end of the line, Quatermain sighed before speaking, "I may not have known him very well, and I may have doubted his intentions at first… but Dr. Jekyll was a strong man in his own right, even without Hyde. He fought the darkness in himself, and the evil in the world. He was admirable… and selfless."

Mina smiled very softly. Quatermain's words were touching, and she appreciated them.

Going down the line, Tom shifted on his feet somewhat, clearly awkward and not sure what to say. It took him a while to speak at all, but when he did, it was quieter than normal for the American; "I didn't know much about Jekyll at all… we didn't really speak, but… I know this. No matter what was facing him, he fought his way through it, with a bravery and courage that I find inspiring. He didn't let his own troubles keep him from helping others, and his last act saved thousands…" Smiling sadly, he added in conclusion, "One of the best men I've ever known."

Quatermain nodded, whether in acknowledgement, agreement or support, Mina did not know, but the tears very nearly freed themselves once again. She pushed them back, even as Skinner's voice sounded to her right.

"You meet a lot of different people on the streets, from all walks of life. I know _I_ have anyway." He chuckled softly, and Mina watched him. "But never did I meet anyone like Jekyll. Never met anyone with his compassion, and his love of life; his sympathy and intelligence. He was the kind of man I admired when I was a kid… the kind I wanted to be. Demons an' all." Skinner fell quiet after that, shrugging his shoulders very softly, as if to signal he'd run out of words, or could not continue for other reasons.

Nemo bowed his head slowly, and then, when his mouth opened, his language eluded Mina's understanding. He was speaking in his native tongue, and even though she could not understand the words, she felt the meaning in them, and it touched her. Placing his palms together and bowing down partially to finish, Mina gazed down at the grating below her feet.

She looked back up at the rest of the _League_, even as Skinner spoke, "So what now?" His voice was quiet and respectful, given the atmosphere up on the tower. The light was starting to fade; dusk was approaching.

"For now," Nemo began calmly, "we will place ourselves as far from those treacherous shores as we can. Perhaps we can continue our travels of this world, in the dawn of this new century." He looked to the others, and saw small nods of consent. With that, he turned admiringly to the ocean he so loved, and departed from the tower.

Skinner shrugged his good shoulder, looking out over the water as he muttered, "So long, Jekyll…" With that, he glanced fleetingly to the other three, and left after Nemo, slipping through the door before disappearing.

Quatermain pulled his hands from his pockets, and his chest rose and fell in a heavy, and perhaps weary sigh. "It never gets any easier," he mused aloud, looking to the other two standing with him. Shaking his head, he looked out towards the horizon, saying, "He will be missed." The hunter nodded to them, and then left as well.

The approaching evening brought a kind of quiet with it that Mina respected… but suddenly, she wasn't sure how to react to it. Normally, the evening was her time. She felt more herself in the darkness, but now… it seemed to confuse her. She didn't know how to feel. Reaching up with a hand to stroke back an auburn tress that had escaped the pins, she said, "We regained a member… only to lose another."

To her left, Tom frowned. He didn't look at her for a while, either staring straight down at his feet, or at his left arm in the sling he'd been given. For a time, he didn't speak, but when he did, it was with a different tone than she had ever heard, "Quatermain's right… it never does get any easier." She looked to him, watching him as he continued, "But, over the last couple of years, I've learned that…" He sighed before persisting, "I've learned that the people who die for us… give us something when they leave. They give us the memories we come to hold dear. The ones that we never want to forget." He looked to her briefly, and then out to the rippling ocean. "What Jekyll did for us… he saved all of us. And in a way… he saved himself."

Mina's brow knitted lightly. She found she did not understand.

"Think about it for a minute… think about how he looked in those last moments." Tom shook his head. "He looked so certain… so _final_. It was his choice. But maybe he couldn't take it anymore, and that was his chance to do some real good… Jekyll always had guilt about him somehow."

"You think he was trying to redeem?" Mina inquired softly.

"Maybe…" Tom murmured pensively. He, like Skinner had a little while ago, shrugged his good shoulder, adding, "But that doesn't make it any easier to accept, I know. And I wish he hadn't done it, on some level…" Cocking his head, one side of his mouth turned up in a very light smile. "I miss him… even if I didn't know him all that well." Meeting her gaze, he concluded poignantly, "And it won't be the same without him."

Mina reached up and stroked the blonde hair from his brow, before leaning into him gently, and looking out at the ocean as the light continued to die. Her head coming down to rest on Tom's shoulder softly, perhaps for comfort, she watched the daylight fade.

"No," she agreed in little more than a whisper. "No, it won't."

_Thank you, Henry Jekyll… for everything._


End file.
